IiAMITH. 


S.  Jfl.  OSMOND. 


-.) 

,K 


[BRARY 


THE  UNIVERSITY 


OF  CAL IFORNIA 


LOS  ANGELES 


SULAMITH. 


A   METRICAL    ROMANCE 


BY 

SAMUEL  MCCLURG  OSMOND,  D.D. 


PHILADELPHIA  : 

THE  JAS.  B.  RODGERS  PRINTING  COMPANY, 

52  AND  54  NORTH  SIXTH  ST. 

1892. 


Copyrighted  by 

SAMUEL  McCLURG  OSMOND. 
1892. 


s. 


PS 
2-499 


jfYONEY  sweetness  drops  from  thy  lips, 
Ji\_    My  sister-bride  ! 

Honey  and  milk  are  on  thy  tongue, 
The  smell  of  thy  robes  is  like  that  of  Lebanon. 
A  garden  enclosed  is  my  sister-bride, 
A  fenced  well,  a  sealed-up  spring. 

— Song  of  Songs. 


1051396 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

I.     AMMINADIB u 

II.    CAPTIVE  AND  CAPTOR 20 

III.  LEBANON 33 

IV.  DAWN 42 

V.    LOVE 49 

VI.    SOLOMON 67 

VII.      FORESHADOWINGS 75 

VIII.  JERUSALEM 88 

IX.  HALCYON  DAYS 101 

X.  QUESTIONINGS 117 

XI.  NAAMAH 125 

XII.    TROUBLED  DREAMS 137 

XIII.  PARADISE  LOST 144 

XIV.  VANITY  OF  VANITIES 161 

XV.    SIN  AND  SORROW 187 

XVI.    SONG  OF  SONGS 205 


PROKM 


HAD  been  musing  on  that  mystic  song 
Of    love    and    longing,    which — as    some    have 

deemed — 

Is  in  the  sacred  canon  strangely  found  : 
"Strangely,"  say  they,   "because  so  much  attuned 
To  key-notes  given  forth  by  human  hearts 
When  but  an  earth-born  passion  sweeps  their  chords." 

But  well  I  knew  that  its  melodious  strains, 
So  soft  and  low  with  yearning  tenderness, 
Or  tremulous  with  thrills  of  passionate  pain, 
Or  jubilant  with  a  triumphal  joy, 
Were  all  as  angels'  wings  to  saintly  souls, 
On  which  they  soared  to  heavenly  ecstacies 
And  purest  raptures  of  the  love  divine. 


Yet  even  to  me  had  doubt  unbidden  come, 
That  he  who  wove  into  his  crown  of  crowns 


8  PROEM. 

This  brightest  of  its  gems,  the  Song  of  Songs, 

Had,  when  he  set  its  peerless  splendors  there, 

Of  aught  else  dreamed  than  common  hopes  and  fears, 

The  bliss  and  anguish,  trust  and  faithfulness, 

And  fond  communings  of  two  kindred  hearts 

Together  drawn,  through  all  that  interposed, 

By  interweaving  ties  that  make  them  one. 

Nor  seemed  such  theme  unworthy  to  employ 
The  wisdom  of  the  wisest  of  mankind, 
Or  to  invoke  the  inspiring  breath  of  Him 
Who  made  man  male  and  female,  each  for  each, 
Crowning  the  bliss  of  Eden  with  their  love, 
Ordaining  wedlock  as  the  fount  of  life 
And  joy  and  weal  for  all  humanity. 

Then  came  to  me  the  thought  of  Eden's  loss, 
And  sadder  loss  of  Eden-innocence  ; 
And  how,  in  ever-deepening  guilt  and  shame, 
The  apostate  race  of  man  had  drifted  far 
From  its  divine  ideals,  and  not  least 
From  that  of  wedded  love's  sweet  sanctity  ; 
And  how  the  very  best  and  holiest, 
As  faithful  Abraham  and  Israel, 
And  David,  who  was  after  God's  own  heart, 


PROEM. 


Had  cast  into  the  shadowed  springs  of  Home, 

Which  God  had  meant  should  keep  the  world's  life  pure, 

The  curse  and  poison  of  polygamy. 

Much  did  I  marvel  that  from  Solomon, 
Who  went  this  downward  wray  his  father  trod 
Until,  at  last,  he  reached  its  yawning  depths, 
And  who  so  prostituted  womanhood 
To  basest  uses,  that  her  virtues  fled 
Abashed,   and  left  her  such  sole  dower  of  shame — 
Of  shame  and  falsehood,  that  in  all  the  thousand 
He  knew  too  well,  he  found  not  one  above 
What  he  had  made  her — not  one  pure  and  true  ! — 
Great  was  my  wonder,  that  from  such  a  source 
Should  flow  this  limpid  stream  of  sacred  song, 
So  tuneful  with  the  sweetness  of  a  love 
Artless  as  Nature's  self,  fresh,  virginal, 
Commixt  of  mind  and  heart,  of  soul  and  sense, 
Yet  free  from  taint  of  evil  consciousness 
As  that  of  the  first  pair  who,  hand  in  hand, 
Roved  through  the  flowery^  haunts  of  Paradise, 
Clothed  with  but  innocence,  untaught  of  shame. 

Was  he  whose  life  so  desecrated  love, 
Who  dragged  it  from  its  throne  of  purity, 
Sullied  and  slain,  the  one  who  also  sang 


10  PROEM. 

Love's  sweetest  praises  ?     Was  the  cunning  hand 

Which  wrought  it  deadly  wrong  the  hand  that  painted, 

In  colors  vivid  as  the  rainbow's  hues, 

Its  unstained  beauty?     Did  the  very  lips, 

That  on  it  breathed  the  blight  of  their  pollution, 

Give  utterance  to  thoughts  and  images 

Which  even  Inspiration  could  employ, 

In  setting  forth  that  holy  mystery, 

The  love  of  Christ  and  of  His  church  blood-bought, 

The  Lamb  and  the  Lamb's  Bride,  forever  one  ? 

So  queried  I,  in  sore  perplexity, 
Until  my  mind,  with  fruitless  musing  wearied, 
Drifted  in  dreams.     Then  Fancy  plied  her  oars, 
But  Reason  kept  her  hold  upon  the  helm. 


SULAMITH, 


i. 


AMMINADIB. 

TIDAL  flood  of  fierce  and  bloody  fight 
Had  rolled  its  surges,  ere  the  close  of  day, 
Over  the  summit  of  a  Syrian  hill ; 
And  now  upon  its  trampled,  gory  sod, 
Or  underneath  its  tangled  vines — their  leaves 
Drenched  and  still  dripping  with  the  crimson  spray — 
Were  strewn  the  wrecks,  the  dying  and  the  dead. 

The  host  of  Israel  had  chased  the  foe 
Down  to  the  valley,  and  had  scattered  him, 
Even  as  chaff  of  summer  threshing  floor 
Is  swept  upon  the  whirlwind. 

11 


12  SULAMITH. 

As  the  shades 

Of  evening  deepened,  to  the  vantage  ground, 
Crowded  with  Syria's  deserted  tents, 
The  victors  hastened  back  to  seize  the  spoils 
Won  by  their  valor,  or  to  find  what  thirst, 
Hunger  and  weariness  more  keenly  crave, 
When  long  deferred — refreshment  and  repose. 


Foremost  of  the  returning  host,  had  sped 
The  gleaming  chariot  of  Amminadib, 
Its  coursers,  famed  for  fleetness,  flecked  with  foam 
From  unslacked  driving  up  the  steep  hillside. 
No  pause  it  made  amid  the  scattered  spoil, 
Or  for  the  food  or  couch  of  sheltering  tent ; 
But  onward  drove  until  the  charioteer 
Drew  sudden  rein  before  the  ghastly  swaths 
Of  bloody  forms,  mown  by  the  scythe  of  war 
Through  serried  ranks  of  Israel's  enemies. 

Oh,   not  to  feast  his  eyes  upon  these  piles 
Of  slaughtered  foemen  did  Amminadib, 
From  his  stayed  chariot,  look  upon  that  scene 
Of  untold  horrors — doubly  such  to  him, 
As  first  he  saw  them  in  the  spectral  light 


AMMINADIB.  13 


Of  the  weird  moonrise.      True,  of  Judah's  chiefs 

None  loved  the  storm  of  battle  more  than  he, 

Or  found  in  its  stern  havoc  fiercer  joy  ; 

Yet  his  heroic  heart  was  pitiful 

And  tender  as  a  woman's.     When  the  shock 

And  stress  of  strife  had  ceased,  oft  came  to  him 

A  strange  relenting,  a  resistless  tide 

Of  passionate  feeling,  that  would  bear  him  on, 

Until  as  now  he  stood  and  gazed  upon 

The  very  sights  at  which  his  soul  recoiled — 

The  stony  faces,  the  reproaching  eyes 

Of  those  on  whom  perchance  his  reeking  blade 

Had  dealt  the  deadly  strokes  which  laid  them  low. 

He  knew  that,  in  such  conflict   as   had  raged 
Upon  the  hill  top,   few  had  been  the  strokes 
Which    had    not    reached    their    aim,     a     foeman's 

heart ; 

And  that,  through  Joab's  matchless  discipline, 
Nor  less,  through  the  warm  brotherhood  that  bound 
The  hearts  of  Israel's  warriors  each  to  each, 
Not  one  of  these,  if  wounded,  would  be  left 
Unsuccored  on  the  field  where  Israel's  arms 
Had  put  the  foe  to  flight. 


14  SULAMITH. 


And  still  his  eye 

Scans  all  the  field,  with  scrutiny  as  keen 
As  if  some  living  friend  or  kinsman  dear 
Might  be  discerned  among  its  crowded  dead, 
In  mortal  peril  or  in  helpless  pain. 

But  neither  moan  nor  motion  told  of  life, 
Nor  aught  beside,  save  but  the  hurried  tramp 
And  flaring  torches  of  a  chosen  band, 
Who,  at  his  word,  had  followed  as  they  could, 
Prepared  to  give  the  aid  that  might  be  needed 
In  furtherance  of  his  merciful  intent. 
These  hear  his  brief  commands,  then  sally  forth, 
With  food  and  water  furnished,   to  make  search 
So  thorough  for  all  faint  or  wounded  ones, 
That  when  Amminadib,  that  night,  should  seek 
Rest  for  his  wearied  frame  and  burdened  heart, 
No  haunting  thought  of  hunger  or  of  thirst 
Or  anguish  unrelieved  that  might  have  been, 
Should  with  accusing  visions  vex  his  sleep. 

Awhile  he  waited  in  his  chariot ; 
But  briefly,  for  his  stirred  and  restless  heart 
Rebelled  against  inaction.     He  had  spied 


AMMINADIB. 


An  unobstructed  way,  on  either  side 

Lined  with  the  slain,  with  breadth  enough  between 

For  easy  passage  of  the  chariot  wheels  ; 

Along  this  route  they  leisurely  proceed  ; 

Oft  pausing  while  Amminadib,   alert, 

Makes  eager  scrutiny  of  all  in  sight ; 

But  fruitlessly,  until  at  length  they  come 

To  where  the  roadway  narrows.     There,  in  front 

Of  the  uprearing  steeds,   a  manly  form, 

Richly  appareled — his  sword  sheath  embossed 

With  jewels  glittering  in  the  brightening  beams 

Of  the  full,  cloudless  moon — half  gains  his  feet ; 

Then  prostrate  falls,  as  if  from  failing  strength, 

That  serves  him  not  for  flight,  or  from  despair 

That  urges  acquiescence  in  the  death 

Which  chariot  wheels  or  hoofs  of  plunging  horses 

Might  sooner  bring  than  slowly  bleeding  wounds, 

That,  drop  by  drop,  would  drain  his  life-springs  dry. 

But  scarce  had  sunk  the  fainting  Syrian 
Back  to  the  grassy  sod  steeped  in  his  blood, 
Before  Amminadib  was  by  his  side. 
He  sprinkled  water  on  his  clammy  brow, 
And  pressed  a  flagon  to  his  parched  lips, 


16  SULAMITH. 

On  which  they  closed  instinctively,   and  quaffed 

Of  its  reviving  cordial  eager  draughts, 

That  fed  anew  the  flickering  flame  of  life, 

Until,  with  upraised  head  and  searching  eyes, 

He  gazed,  as  if  he  fain  would  read  the  soul 

Of  him  who  bent  above  him.     First  there  swept 

Over  his  pallid,  noble  countenance 

An  early  dawn  of  wonder,  cold  and  keen  ; 

And  then  faint  kindlings  of  a  new-born  hope  ; 

Nor  long  delayed  to  brighten  and  to  glow 

The  siinrise  flush  of  confidence  and  joy. 

Amminadib  would  fain  have  called  for  help, 
To  bear  the  wounded  warrior  to  a  place 
Where  fitting  care  and  shelter  might  be  found, 
But  that,  with  air  of  firmly  fixed  resolve, 
He  plainly  showed  that  he  would  not  be  moved 
From  his  poor  resting-place.     Then  courteously, 
With  deep,   clear  tones  and  still  unfaded  light 
Of  glad  expectancy  upon  his  face, 
His  thankfulness  expressed,  and  his  surprise 
At  kindness  rendered  by  a  foeman's  hand  ; 
And  further  thus  he  spake  : 


AMMINADIB.  17 


"Oh,  Israelite, 

And  Chief  among  thy  people,  hear  my  words — 
The  last  these  lips  of  mine  shall  ever  breathe 
To  mortal  listener  :     In  yonder  village, 
That  sleeps  within  the  shadow  of  the  hill, 
Unwalled  and  undefended,  are  the  homes 
Of  those  who  still  are  left  to  own  me  lord. 
For  all  its  males  of  strength  to  carry  arms 
Lie  here  around  me  ;  since  not  one  of  them 
Was  molded  of  the  common  stuff  that  makes 
Swift  fugitives  from  danger  and  from  death, 
In  the  lost  battle.     Here  they  fought  and  fell. 

"Rising  above  the  humbler  cottages 
That  cluster  round  it,  like  a  parent  pine 
Above  the  kindred  trees  of  later  growth 
Sprung  from  its  scattered  seed,  behold  the  home 
That  late  was  mine,  where,  wholly  unaware 
Of  evil,  dreaded  long,  impending  now, 
My  faithful,  loving  spouse,  for  my  return, 
With  busy  hands,  prepares  home's  brightest  cheer,- 
Only  alas  !  for  those  who  soon  shall  come 
To  bring  it  desolation  and  despair. 

2 


18  SULAMITH. 

"Four  children,  by  the  favor  of  the  gods, 
Were  given  us,  and  there  remain  of  these 
Three  ruddy  boys,  who  show  their  warrior  blood  : 
But  one,  a  gentle  daughter,  is  no  more. 

"  Oh,  stranger,  enemy,  who  yet  hast  shown 
Such  kindness  in  my  dire  extremity  ; 
And  in  whose  looks  the  heart-depths  I  can  see, 
Whence  gush  the  living  waters  that  have  brought 
Refreshment  to  my  thirsting,  fainting  soul  ; — 
Forgive  me  that  I  plead  for  further  grace, 
And  pray,  with  dying  breath,  that  thou  wilt   swear 
By  dread  Jehovah,  whom  thou  worshipest, 
And  who,  at  last,   I  learn,   from  what  I  see 
And  feel,  is  mightier  far  than  Rimmon, 
The  god  of  Syria  who,  on  Syrian  soil, 
Sees  Syrians  shamed  before  their  enemies  ; — 
Yes,  by  Jehovah,   called  the  Merciful, 
(And  rightly  so  full  well  this  day  I  know, 
Even  by  the  mercy  thou  His  worshiper 
Hast  shown  to  one  who  is  thy  nation's  foe.) 
By  Him  who  seems  the  God  of  Heaven  and  Earth, 
Swear  that  my  widowed  wife  and  little  ones 
Shall  fall  into  no  other  hands  than  thine, — 


AMMINADIB.  19 


Shall  be  thy  captives  or  whate'er  thou  wilt. 
Take  first  this  ring  with  priceless  rubies   set, 
And  this  good  sword  that  never  yet  was  stained 
With  aught  save  foeman's  blood  in  battle  shed, — 
Nay,  nay,  refuse  me  not  this  last  request  ; 
Nor  leave  them  to  be  seized  by  other  hands  ; 
But  let  them  be  to  thee,  in  coming  years, 
The  witnesses  of  this  thy  oath   to  me, 
That  thou  wilt  truly,  kindly  deal  with  them 
Concerning  whom  I  charge  thee,  as  thou  wouldst 
Thy  God  shall  deal  with  thee." 

Amminadib 
Raised   his    right    hand    toward    Heaven,    and   with 

bared  brow, 

In  deepest  reverence,  sware  by  Him  who  made 
The  heavens  and  the  earth,   that  faithfully, 
So  far  as  in  him  lay,  he  would  fulfill 
The  sacred  charge  committed  to  his  hands. 
Ere  yet  his  words  were  spoken,  o'er  the  moon 
A  veil  of  fleecy,  silvered  cloud  was  spread, 
And  when  he  stooped  and  closely  looked   again 
Upon  the  Syrian's  face,  a  darker  cloud 
Had  cast  upon  its  pale  unchanging  features 
The  deep,  chill  shadow  of  Death's  mystery. 


II. 


CAPTIVE  AND   CAPTOR. 

WIFT  years  had  sped  since    o'er   the   Syrian 

hill 

The  blood-red  surges  of  fierce   battle  rolled, 
And  left  the  Syrian  chief  a  stranded  wreck. 
The  kindness  shown  him  by  Amminadib, 
And  greater  pledged  and  wrought  for  those  he  loved, 
Had  been  as  bread  upon  the  waters  cast, 
As  seed  which,  though  for  others  only  sown, 
Had  also  yielded  the  unselfish  sower 
Such  fruitage  as  he  had  not  dared  to  dream 
Could  bless  and  beautify  his  barren  life : 
For  all  its  tender  leaves  and  dewy  blossoms 
Had  shriveled  in  the  blaze  of  its  hot  noon. 
True,  golden  gains  had  come  to  him,  but   ever 
With  losses  that  impoverished  his  heart, 
And  left  it  vainly  hungering  for  love. 
Within  the  compass  of  one  fleeting  year, 

20 


CAPTIVE  AND    CAPTOR.  21 


Which  with  a  wedding  feast  had  been  begun, 

A  husband  and  a  father  he  had  been, 

Then  wifeless,  childless — hopeless,  but  for  God. 

Rays  of  the  sunset,  golden  arrows  piercing 
The  crystal  showers  that  pour  from  drifting  clouds, 
Bear  most  aloft  the  bow  with  promise  fraught ; 
So,  when  his  tears  fell  on  the  graves  of  these 
'Last,  dearest  of  his  dead,  that  light  which  shines 
Brightest  as  sets  the  sun  of  earth-born  hope, 
With  more  than  iridescent  beauty  clothed, 
For  his  sad  soul,  exalted  thoughts  of  Heaven  ; 
And  all  the  glories  of  the  world  grew  dim. 
Then  noblest  aims  and  purposes  of  life 
Unsprung  from  out  the  stormy  depths  of  woe. 
He  would  no  longer  live  for  love  or  pleasure, 
But  for  his  God,  his  country  and  his  king; 
And  on  the  vacant  throne  which  happiness 
Before  had  filled,  a  rose-crowned,  smiling  queen, 
Stern  Faithfulness  should  wield  imperiously 
His  sceptre,  partly  iron,  partly  gold. 

Harsh  schooling  of  his  native  gentleness 
Had  left  his  tender,  pitying  heart  unspoiled, 


22  SULAMITH. 


And,  by  authority  which  had  been  given, 

Though  grudgingly,  by  Joab,  he  had  saved 

The  Syrian  captives  from  atrocities 

To  ancient  warfare  common  ;  most  of  all, 

Had  shown  the  chieftain's  family  and  town, 

Such  thoughtful  kindness  as  had  greatly  moved 

The  wonder  of  the  lady  now  their  head. 

As  yet  she  knew  not  that  her  lord  was  slain, 

And  fondly  hoping  for  his  prompt  return, 

Would  not  be  rescued  from  the  coming  storm 

Of  pillage  and  destruction,  but  postponed. 

Therefore,  Amminadib  reluctantly — 

Well  knowing,  that  in  the  engulfing  waves 

Of  great  calamity  are  swallowed  up 

All  secondary  cares  and  interests, 

And  that  one  stunning  blow  of  trouble  dulls 

The  sense  to  lighter  strokes, — thus  reasoning, 

Had  laid  upon  her  hands,  outstretched  at  last, 

The  sword  and  ring.     To  her  quick  intuition, 

These  were  undoubted  tokens  of  the  truth 

That  rendered  her  benumbed  and  bleeding  heart 

Indifferent  to  all  the  world  beside. 

Her  captors  now  might  work  their  will  upon  her. 

Her  children  caught  her  acquiescent  mood, 


CAPTIVE  AND    CAPTOR.  23 

And  she  and  they  were  borne,  by  such   conveyance 
As  could  be  furnished,  to  Jerusalem, 
And  to  Amminadib's  own  spacious  home 
Which  long  had  been  a  sole,  sad  dwelling-place 
For  bitter  memories  of  buried  joys. 

The  foes  of  David,  for  the  time,  were  crushed  ; 
And  Israel's  surviving  warriors, 
Sore  spent  with  hardship,  toil  and  battle-strain, 
Had    learned — what    else    they    never     could     have 

known — 
How  sweet  are  home  and  rest ! 

Amminadib — 

In  this  unlike  his  fellows — sadly  knew, 
Familiar  scenes  could  yield  him  no  repose. 
To  look  upon  them  would  but  stir  afresh 
The  fountains  of  his  sorrow  and  unrest. 

The  king  had  given  him,  for  use  and  profit, 
A  wide  uncultured  tract  of  glebe  and  forest, 
Rugged,  but  fertile,   'mid  the  lonely  wilds 
And  rocky  steeps  of  Lebanon.     To  this 
His  thoughts  had  turned,  and  soon  his  chariot 


24  SULAMITH. 


Had  borne  him  thither.     But,  at  his  departure, 

He  gave  his  Syrian  wards,  with  strictest  charges, 

Into  the  hands  of  his  devoted  servants. 

Of  these,  one  trusted,  honored  most,   named  Agar, 

An  Israelitish  woman,  gentle,  strong, 

Devout,  and  zealous  for  her  faith  and  nation, 

Had  been  his  mother's  handmaid,  and,  when  he 

Was  left  in  early  childhood  motherless, 

Had  scarcely  less  to  him  than  mother  proved. 

She  knew  and  well  performed  her  master's  wishes  : 

The  lights  of  the  old  home  shone  out  again, 

Its  hearthstone,  cold  so  long,   now  brightly  blazed 

With  genial  welcome,  as  for  cherished  guests  ; 

And  all  that  gold  could  buy  or  thought  could  plan 

Was  lavished  on  the  widow  and  her  sons. 

Soon  rang  the  walls  with  unaccustomed  sounds 
Of  boyish  laughter,  for  the  heart  of  childhood 
Is  from  its  sorrows  easily  beguiled. 
But  she,  whose  griefs  the  anxious  servitor 
So  sedulously  sought  to  charm  away, 
Was  unresponsive.     Not  a  smile  or  word 
Showed  slightest  heed  to  those  who  were  around  her ; 
Barely  some  faintest  motherly  regard — 


CAPTIVE  AND    CAPTOR.  25 


From  instinct  more  than  reason — for  her  sons. 

Month  after  month  she  wore  upon  her  face 

The  changeless  look  of  one  transformed  to  stone, 

As  all  the  joys  of  life  had  vanished  from  her ; 

Rather  as  if  it  were  but  sculptured  grief, 

And  pain  and  hopelessness  together  wrought 

Upon  a  face  of  marble,  pale  and  cold, — 

A  fascination  to  the  gazer's  eye, 

And  yet  a  terror  to  his  shrinking  heart, 

Lest  haply  it  should  haunt  his  nightly  dreams, 

And  grow  to  be  a  weariness  forever. 

Agar  had  learned,  from  hard  and  painful  lessons 
Of  by-gone  years,  that  for  such  hopeless  grief 
God's  peace  and  mercy  only  furnish  cure. 
But  she,  for  whose  soul's  life  she  travailed  sore, 
Knew  only  of  the  gods  of  wood  and  stone, 
Of  gold,  and  brass,  and  iron,  deaf  and  blind, 
And  powerless  to  pity  or  to  save. 
At  length,  with  wisdom  greater  than  her  state, 
Born  of  her  yearning  love  and  sympathy, 
She  gained  by  indirection  what  she  sought : 
She  clothed  in  simplest  words  the  Hebrew  tales, 
Which  have,  through  all  the  ages,  proved  a  charm 


26  SULAMITH. 


For  childhood's  heart,  and  told  them  o'er  and  o'er— 

The  mother  near — to  the  rapt  Syrian  boys : 

Of  blameless  Joseph  by  his  brethren  sold, 

And  how  God  turned  their  evil  into  good  ; 

Of  infant  Moses  from  fierce  Pharaoh  saved, 

To  lead,  in  after  years,  his  people  forth 

From  iron  bondage  to  the  promised  land ; 

Of  Ruth,  the  Moabitess,  who  had  come, 

Widowed  and  poor,  but  dowered  with  loveliness, 

To  trust  beneath  Jehovah's  sheltering  wing. 

Or,  with  low,  lulling  tones,  such  as  might  soothe 

A  restless  child  to  sleep,  she  sung  or  chanted 

The  songs  of  Zion,  plaintive  oft  with  griefs, 

Yet  ever  fraught  with  sacred  hopes  and  longings, 

That  wafted  troubled  souls  upon  their  wings 

Up  to  the  heavenly  hills  whence  cometh  help. 

She,  for  whose   sake,  with  many  a    burdened 

prayer, 

This  artful  artlessness  was  chiefly  wrought, 
At  length  grew  heedful.     Then  there  came  a  time — 
The  first  since  fell  the  blow  that  fateful  night — 
When  her  tears  started  arid  soon  fell  like   rain. 
The  light  had  reached  their  fountain,  and  the  warmth 


CAPTIVE  AND    CAPTOR.  27 

Melted  her  frozen  heart ;  and  after  that 

She  talked  with  Agar ;  but  of  one  theme  only — 

The  greatest — God  !     And  Agar's  glowing  speech 

Was  as  of  one  inspired.     And  so  the  night 

That  knew  no  stars  now  broke  and  rolled  away, 

With  all  its  hideous  dreams  of  Baal  and  Molech, 

And  Ashteroth  and  Rimmon,  lust  and  blood, 

And  utter  dreadful  void  of  hope  or  healing 

For  bleeding  hearts.    Thus  Agar's  work  was  wrought. 

She,  in  whose  soul  the    quenchless    light  had 

dawned, 

And  scattered  superstition's  direful  night, 
Long  seemed  like  one  who,  in  deep  poverty, 
Has  found  a  treasure  that  is  boundless  wealth, 
And  o'er  it  bends  with  such  absorbing  joy, 
Or  guards  it  with  such  unremitting  care, 
That  all  things  else,  however  great  or  dear, 
Are  meanwhile  little  heeded.     New-found  peace 
Took  full  possession  of  her  mind  and  heart, 
And  all  their  elevated  faculties 
Found  sole  employment  in  the  higher  range 
To  which  she  had  been  borne,   by  a  transition 
Swift  and  bewildering,  as  when  happy  spirits, 


28  SULAMITH. 


Loosed    from    their    fleshly    bonds,    entranced    and 

thrilled 

With  Heaven's  transcendent  glories,  grow  forgetful 
Of  earthly  scenes  and  friends  the  best  beloved. 

But,  with  the  healing  wrought  upon  her  soul, 
A  kindred  salutary  influence 

Brought  back  the  brightness  to  her  eye,   the  bloom 
To  her  paled  cheek ;  and  then,  from  less  to  more, 
Something  of  natural  interest  and  feeling 
Evinced  their  presence  by  a  questioning  look, 
Which  grew  to  be  so  wistfully  intense, 
That  Agar  noticed  it  and  made  reply. 
She  told  her  of  their  master  and  his  home, 
And  of  his  far-famed  steeds  and  chariots, 
His  valor,  piety  and  gentleness. 
But  as  the  stream  of  loving  eulogy 
Kept  flowing,  still,  upon  the  listener's  face 
Deepened  the  shadow  of  perplexity, 
To  which,  at  last,  her  lips  gave  utterance. 
"Oh,  why,"  she  cried,  "am  I,  and  these,  my  sons 
Thus  treated  in  the  home  of  Syria's  foe ; 
Its  comforts,  its  abundance,  even  its  love 
Upon  us  lavished,  as  if  all  were  ours?" 


CAPTIVE  AND    CAPTOR.  29 


Agar  made  answer  that  Amminadib, 
Who  brought  them  thither  from  the  Syrian  war, 
Had  so  commanded.     Then,  as  not  before, 
Flashed  on  the  questioner's  mind  the  certainty, 
That  this  Amminadib,  whose  glowing  praises 
Agar  had  spoken,  of  whose  generous  bounty 
She  and  her  children  were  the  living  proofs, 
Was  he  who  had  in  battle  slain  her  lord, 
And  made  her  children  orphans.     Had  he  not — 
Though  why,  she  vainly  queried — brought  to  her 
The  ring  and  sword,  that  none  could  e'er  have  taken, 
Save  from  his  lifeless  hands?     Oh,  bitter  thought, 
That  she  and  hers  must  eat  his  bread  !     Her  lips 
Were  sealed  upon  her  anguish,  but  her  soul 
Cried  out  to  her  new  Helper  night  and  day. 
She  would  have  fled,  but  that  a  sense  of  honor 
Kept  her  from  throwing  off  the  only  bond 
That  held  her  to  her  state — her  captor's  kindness. 
Agar  was  quick  to  note  her  deep  distress, 
But  could  not  learn  its  cause  or  give  relief ; 
Hence  sent  swift  summons  to  Amminadib, 
To  which  his  presence  speedy  answer  gave. 

More  than  the  urgency  of  Agar's  message, 


30  SULAMITH. 


The  lash  of  self-reproach  had  served  to  quicken 

His  homeward  journey :  for,  in  the  absorption 

Of  other  interests,  his  Syrian  wards 

Had  been  well  nigh  forgotten ;  and  too  long, 

He  now  could  realize,  had  been  postponed 

The  full  recital  he  had  meant  to  give 

The  widowed  one  of  how  her  husband  died, 

And  of  the  last  fond  wishes  he  had  spoken. 

Thus  had  he  left  her  wounded  heart  to  ache 

With  dark  and  torturing  uncertainties, 

From  which,  at  least,  she  might  have  been  relieved 

By  his  disclosures.     Scarcely  taking  time 

For  Agar's  narrative — that  gave  him  comfort, 

Yet  roused  his  apprehensions — he  straightway 

Sought  her  apartments,  and  soon  gazed  upon 

Her  now  unveiled  but  averted  face  ; 

And,  without  needless  ceremony,  poured 

His  story  into  her  attentive  ears. 

It  gave  reality  and  vividness 

To  what  had  been  a  vague  and  shadowy  grief, 

And  hence,  as  never  hitherto,  the  fountains 

Of  her  great  deep  of  woe  were  broken  up. 

But  when  the  tumult  of  their  overflow 

At  length  abated,  to  her  thought  there  came 


CAPTIVE   AND    CAPTOR.  31 


vSome  dawning  sense  of  the  rare  nobleness 

Of  him  who  stood  before  her,  and  her  heart 

Reproached  her  keenly  for  the  causeless  wrong, 

That,  in  her  blinded  rashness,  she  had  done 

To  one  who,  next  to  God  Himself,  deserved 

Her  gratitude  and  honor.     Then  her  eyes, 

Still  with  their  tears  suffused,  were  raised  to  his, 

Wet  also  with  the  manly  drops  that  fell 

For  pity  of  her  woe  and  helplessness  ; 

And,  at  that  moment,  in  the  soul  of  each 

Was    born    a   feeling   which,    through    months    that 

followed 

While  they  were  still  apart,  grew  into  strength  ; 
But  never  otherwise  than  side  by  side 
With  loyal,  tender,  undimmed  memories 
Of  those  who  but  in  memory  now  were  theirs. 

Again  the  chariot  of  Amminadib, 
More  swift  than  ever,  flashed  along  the  road 
That  leads  from  Lebanon  to  Jerusalem. 
He  came  to  claim  a  warrior's  legal  right, 
As  plainly  written  in  the  code  of  Moses, 
To  wed  the  female  captive  he  has  taken  ; 
Yet,  as  if  she,  not  he,  had  been  the  captor, 


32  SULAMITH. 


He  humbly  sued  her  to  become  his  wife, 
And,  to  her  yielding  heart,  sued  not  in  vain. 

The  Syrian  vine,  whose  roots  had  deeply  struck 
Into  the  richness  of  Judean  soil, 
Was  not  unfruitful  ;  and  the  olive  plants 
In  beauty  grew,  around  the  well-filled  board 
Spread  for  Amminadib  : — but  spread  no  more 
In  presence  of  his  enemies.     Hot  words, 
Which  he  had  spoken  of  the  cruelties 
Practised  by  Joab  on  his  vanquished  foes, 
Had  made  a  widening  breach  between  the  two. 
King  David  loved  and  prized  Amminadib, 
And  as  the  only  way  in  which  to  shield  him 
From  Joab's  seldom  less  than  fatal  wrath, 
Had,  with  all  honor,  given  him  discharge 
From  warfare.     Then,  for  his  abandoned  sword, 
He  plied  the  plowshare  ;  for  the  warrior's  spear, 
The  pruning  hook,  with  which  he  ere  long  won 
Bloodless  and  blameless  victories,  that  turned 
The  wilderness  into  a  fruitful  field, 
And  wreathed  the  mountain  slopes  of  Lebanon 
With  blossoming  vines  and  orchards.     So  had  flown 
Swift  years  of  love  and  peace  on  downy  wings. 


III. 


LEBANON. 

|PON  a  rock  that  rose  precipitous, 

A  jutting  buttress  on  the  mountain  side, 
Rounded  and  fluted  by  the  elements, 
With  flattened  top  that  formed  its  ample  platform, 
Was  reared  the  cottage  of  Amminadib. 
There,  amid  Lebanon's  cool  and  breezy  heights, 
He  and  his  household,  yearly,  refuge  found 
From  torrid  heats  that  all  the  summer  long 
Drank  up  the  strength  of  those  who  on  the  plains 
Or  in  the  cities  had  their  dwelling  place. 
The  mountain  was  its  safeguard  from  the  rear ; 
In  front  the  scaleless  rock  a  fortress  stood, 
Impregnable  to  every  human  foe. 
A  winding  roadway  to  the  fastness  led, 
So  narrow  it  could  easily  be  made 
Impassable  for  all  who  came  unwelcomed. 

3  33 


34  SULAMITH. 


A  streamlet,  leaping  from  the  mountain  top, 

Cold  with  the  snows  that  melted  at  its  source, 

Out  of  the  rock,  near  to  the  cottage  door, 

Had  scooped  a  round,  deep  basin,  whence  it  welled 

With  overflowing  fulness,  and  was  led, 

By  artificial  channels,  wheresoe'er 

It  best  might  serve  the  ends  of  use  and  beauty, 

Then  found  its  way  adown  the  rock's  deep  grooves, 

In  countless  trickling  rivulets,  that  brought 

Moisture  and  greenness  to  the  slope  below. 

Oh,   never  was  a  home  of  earth  environed 

With  greater  wealth  of  grandeur  or  of  beauty  : — 

The  background  filled  with  mountain  ruggedness, 

But  on  the  foreground  smooth  declivities, 

The  terraced  vineyards  and  the  scattered  groups 

Of  pine  and  palm,  the  oak  and  terebinth, 

The  fig  and  olive,  and  the  flocks  and  herds 

That  grazed  on  stretches  of  green  pasturage, 

Which  coalesced  and  widened  to  the  plain 

Laced  with  the  flashing  sheen  of  silvery  streams, 

And  by  far  mountains  dimly  limited. 

Well  might  the  inmates  of  such  favored  home 
More  than  sufficient  for  each  other  prove, 


LEBANON.  35 


And  little  heed  a  far-off  world's  ambitions, 
Its  vain  disquietudes  and  hollow  joys. 
Their  souls  upon  its  feasts  of  beauty  throve, 
Nor  failed  to  drink  of  beauty's  living  Spring. 
With  healthful  food  their  bodies  were  sustained, 
And  vitalized  with  purest  mountain  air; 
Hence  both  grew  strong  for  life's  supremest  duties 
And  those  that  to  its  lowlier  sphere  pertained. 
The  Syrian  boys,  to  youthful  manhood  grown, 
Some  roughness  in  their  brawn  and  vigor  showed; 
But  they  were  sound  of  heart,  and  well  repaid 
The  care  which  to  their  training  had  been  given  ; 
And  staunchest  aid  their  hands  had  lent  in  bringing 
Order  and  fruitfulness  from  out  the  chaos 
Of  brambles,  thickets,  rocks  and  barrenness. 
Thus    on    themselves    was    marked    improvement 

wrought ; 

For  labor  oft  as  much  of  culture  gives 
To  them  who  labor  as  to  that  on  which 
The  work  is  worthily  done.     The  younger  children, 
Though  never  stinted  in  their  happy  play-time, 
Had,  too,  their  little  tasks — scarce  more  than  sport — 
But  which  yet  served  the  lesson  to  impress, 
That  life  is  not  to  be  all  holiday. 


36  SULAMITH, 


Of  these,  first  born,  the  maiden  Sulamith, 
Though  much  her  mother's  helper  and  companion 
In  household  cares  and  duties,  with  her  brothers, 
Oft  scaled  the  mountain  steeps  in  bold  adventure, 
Or  helped  to  tend  the  orchards  and  the  vines ; 
Trimmed  their  luxuriant  growth,  or,  with  deft  hands, 
Plucked  the  ripe,  purple  clusters  for  the  wine-press, 
Or  gaily  gleaned  after  the  merry  reapers, 
Even  as  the  fair  ancestress  of  King  David, 
More  toilfully  and  with  a  soberer  mien, 
Once  gleaned  the  harvest  field  of  Bethlehem, 
And  charmed  the  heart  of  its  benignant  owner. 

Closer  than  filial  and  paternal  bond, 
Did  common  tastes  and  kindred  sympathies 
Together  draw  the  daughter  and  her  sire  ; 
And  beautiful  it  was  to  see  the  joy 
They  had  in  one  another.     Side  by  side, 
Amminadib's  fleet  chariot  bore  them  past 
Historic  scenes  with  thrilling  memories  fraught. 
Of  these  they  spoke  until  their  souls  were  fired 
With  patriotic  zeal,  or  upward  borne, 
On  wings  of  grateful  praise  to  Him  whose  power 
Had  saved  His  people  from  their  enemies. 


LEBANON.  37 


Her  eager  questions  drew,  from  hidden  depths, 

The  stores  of  wisdom  which  his  life  had  garnered. 

He  taught  her  of  the  Law,  and  how  its  spirit 

More  sacred  than  its  letter  should  be  held, — 

A  germ  of  deathless  life  in  fruitful  souls, 

E'en  when  the  withered  husk  should  fall  away  ; 

And  that  no  services  or  sacrifice 

Gave  God  delight  apart  from  love  and  mercy, 

Or  broken  heart  that  sorrowed  for  its  sin. 

And  oft  he  made  to  live  and  move  before  her — 

Illumined  by  his  vivid  glowing  praises — 

The  noblest  types  of  true,  pure  womanhood  ; 

And  poured  the  torrents  of  his  fierce  invective 

On  those  who  lightly  held  that,  which  to  woman 

Above  her  life  should  evermore  be  prized. 

Of  Israel's  glorious  hope  and  destiny 

They  also  spoke,  and  longed  for  clearer  sight 

Of  that  glad,  promised  day  when,  over  her 

And  all  the  nations,  David's  Son  and  Lord, 

The  Prince  of  peace,  should  reign  in  righteousness. 

And  much  their  converse  was  of  Israel's  past, 

Her  sons  and  daughters  of  heroic  mold, — 

Moses  and  Joshua,  Gideon  and  Samson  ; 

And  him  who  all  beside  excelled  in  greatness, 


38  SULAMITH. 

Who,  when  a  stripling,  slew  the  boasting  giant, 
And,  from  the  bleating  flocks  he  shepherded, 
Through  thronging  obstacles,  had  made  his  way 
To  Israel's  throne,  by  him  now  lifted  high 
Above  earth's  loftiest ;  Zeruiah's  sons, 
And  other  mightier,  since  of  nobler  spirit ; 
Of  these  not  least  the  dauntless  three,  who  broke 
Through  hostile  ranks,  and  drew  from  Bethlehem's  well 
Its  deep,  cold  water  for  their  thirsting  leader ; 
Miriam  and  Deborah,  and  Jephtha's  daughter 
Whose   high    heart    yearned   with   virgin    loves   and 

longings ; 

Who  mourned  its  bright,  its  broken  dreams,  yet  gave 
Her  sweet  young  life  in  willing  sacrifice  ; 
Fulfilling  thus  the  rash  vow  of  her  sire ; 
Sealing  his  victory  with  her  unstained  blood. 

Nor  less  was  stirred  the  soul  of  Sulamith 
By  many  a  thrilling  tale  her  father  told  her 
Of  deeds  of  prowess  he  himself^had  seen, 
Or  deadly  hazards,  glorious  victories 
In  which  he  bore  a  part.     And  so  his  hand 
Swept  all  her  spirit's  chords,  and  woke  within  her 
The  symphonies  of  lofty  sentiments — 


LEBANON.  39 


Devotion,  loyalty  and  reverence, 

Enthusiasm  for  the  sacred  right, 

And  passionate  love  of  truth  and  purity. 

And  oft  she  voiced  them  in  the  matchless  songs 

Of  Israel's  poet  king,  oft  in  her  own, 

That  blended  with  the  caroling  of  birds, 

The  plash  of  waters  and  the  moaning  winds  ; 

But  sometimes  rose  in  rich  and  pealing  notes, 

That  drowned  all  else  in  floods  of  melody. 

Thus  stole  away  the  smoothly  gliding  years ; 
Then,  to  the  sky   that  long  had  brightly  smiled, 
There  came  the  dread,  inevitable  cloud, 
Which  hides,  within  its  ever  darkening  folds, 
The  thunderbolt  that  only  bides  its  time 
To  rive  and  shatter  earth's  securest  joys. 

At  near  approach  of  wintry  storms,  again 
The  household  of  Amminadib  had  sought 
The  comforts  of  their  sheltered  city  home ; — 
All  but  the  Syrian  sons,  who  staid  behind 
To  guard  the  house  and  flocks  on  Lebanon. 
Amminadib,  as  oftentimes  before, 
Had  wrought  some  public  service  for  the  king, 


40  SULAMITH. 

With  that  intensity  with  which  he  always 

Labored  or  fought  or  urged  his  chariot's  flight. 

The  task  accomplished,  a  strange  weariness 

Had  overcome  him,  and  a  sudden  pang 

Shot  through  him  like  the  piercing  of  a  sword. 

It  passed  away  and  was  forgotten  quite, 

But  came  again  ere  many  days  had  passed  ; 

And  yet  again,  a  sharper  agony, 

No  longer  yielding  now  to  remedies 

That  hitherto  had  given  prompt  relief. 

He  knew  it  was  the  last,  and  calmly  spoke 

His  farewell  words  to  the  beloved  ones 

Who  with  their  tears  and  prayers  had  fain  detained  him, 

But  whose  dear  faces  faded  from  his  sight, 

While  other,  brighter  visions,  that  should  fade 

No  more  forever,  dawned  upon  his  soul. 

As  at  the  tomb  of  Christ,  even  so  two  angels — 
The  one  named  Memory  and  the  other  Hope — 
Stand  at  the  tombs  of  all  whose  lives  have  been 
Like  Christ's  in  their  self-sacrificing  love, 
Their  truth  and  purity,  to  speak  the  words 
Of  consolation,  that  so  much  assuage 
The  mourner's  grief,  and  wholly  take  away 


LEBANON.  41 


Its  bitterness  and  gloom.     One  casts  the  sweet 

And  healing  recollections  of  the  past 

Into  its  fountain  ;  and  the  other  makes 

The  very  tears  which  from  that  fountain  flow 

Resplendent  with  a  brightness  not  of  earth, — 

The  brightness  of  anticipated  joys, 

That  Heaven  shall  richly  yield,  when  severed  hearts 

Shall  find  each  other  there,  to  part  no  more. 

With  her  twice  widowed,  and  with  Sulamith 
In  this  her  first  experience  of  grief, 
These  angels  twain  abode,  and  ever  whispered, 
"Why  weepest  thou?"  to  one  or  to  the  other, 
As,  at  the  touching  of  some  hidden  spring, 
Fresh  floods  of  tears  would  rise  and  overflow. 
But  when  the  wintry  months,  so  sadly  bleak, 
At  length  were  gone,  and  the  bereaved  ones 
Again  had  sought  their  home  on  Lebanon, 
All  its  associations  seemed  so  fraught 
As  with  the  unseen  presence  of  the  dead, 
They  ceased  to  feel  that  he  was  wholly  gone, 
And  more  and  more  their  hearts  were  comforted. 


IV. 
DAWN. 

JJNOTHER  year  had  sped.      Returning  spring 
Had  softly  breathed  upon  the  wintry  world, 
And  all  its  icy  rigors  flowed  away  ; 
Then  o'er  earth's  nakedness  a  new-made  robe, 
Of  tender  green  and  interwoven  flowers, 
Was  magically  spread. 

The  wakening  life 

Thrilled  the  responsive  heart  of  Sulamith. 
The  rising  tides  of  health  and  joyfulness, 
The  rich  unfolding  rose  of  womanhood, 
Her  tall  and  graceful  form,  like  queenly  palm  tree  ; 
The  flowing  tresses  of  her  silken  hair, 
The  flush  that  brightly  bloomed  upon  her  cheeks — 
Tinged  by  the  summer  sun's  too  ardent  gaze — 
The  kindling  of  her  darkly  liquid  eyes, 
42 


DA  WN.  43 

*  Sparkling  or  melting  like  the  Syrian  dove's, 
Her  smooth,  calm   forehead   and   her  lips  of  sweet 
ness, 

But,  chief  of  all,  the  informing  grace  within, 
Of  mind  and   soul  which   found   their   meet  expres 
sion 

In  every  motion,  feature,  tone  and  look  ; — 
Such  were  the  blended  traits  and  elements 
That  shaped  her  into  virgin  loveliness, 
Fairer  than  e'en  the  fairest  flowers  of  spring, 
Which  beautified  the  slopes  of  Lebanon. 

As  hung  the  setting  sun  above  the  peaks 
Of  purpled  mountains  looming  in  the  west, 
A  huge,  dilating  mass  of  sphered  gold, — 
Beside  the  rocky  basin,  Sulamith 
Alternately  beheld  the  tossing  waters, 
And  the  rich  splendors  flooding  all  the  plain. 
But,  for  a  space,  her  questioning  eye  was  turned 
To  scan  an  unfamiliar  flock,   that  came 
Within  her  vision's  scope, — the  sheep  and  shepherd 
Alike  made  golden  by  the  alchemy 

*  See  Dr.  Burrowe's  Commentary  on  the  Song  of  Solomon. 


44  SULAMITH. 


Of  sunset  glory.     Thus  absorbed  and  musing, 

A  voice,  deep-toned  and  richly  musical, 

Broke  through  her  revery  ;  and,  looking  up, 

She  met  the  gaze,   intently  fixed  upon  her, 

Of  one  whose  face  perplexed  her  with  the  feeling — 

A  vague  impression  as  of  faded  dream — 

That  she  before  had  seen  it ;  where  or  how, 

She  struggled  to  determine,  but  in  vain. 

At  her  first  rapid  glance  she,  meanwhile,  noted 

His  manly  stature,  yet  his  youthfulness  ; 

How  dignified  his  bearing,  yet  what  light 

Of  kindliness  beamed  from  his  searching  eyes. 

Above  his  high  and  massive  brow  his  locks 

Were  thickly  clustered,  black  as  raven's  wing. 

His  finely  molded  and  expressive  features 

Were  such  as  fully  matched  her  high  ideal 

Of  beauty  that  might  well  befit  a  hero. 

"One  of  the  youthful  nobles  of  the  land!" 

Was  first  her  thought ;  but  this  his  garb  denied, 

Which  differed  not  in  texture  or  in  fashion 

From  that  a  shepherd  youth  might  meetly  wear ; 

Therefore,  "A  shepherd!"  was  her  next  conclusion, 

"Perhaps,  belonging  to  the  passing  flock, 

And,  possibly,  its  owner's  son  or  kinsman." 


DA  WN.  45 

No  shepherd's  crook  was  in  his  hand.    Instead — 
More  than  his  hand  could  grasp — a  bulky  package 
Of  gathered  grasses,   plants  and  early  flowers, 
And  tiny  branches  of  rare  shrubs  and  trees, 
Together  bound  and  borne  by  looped  cord. 
With  due  obeisance  made,  he  simply  asked 
For  leave  to  quench  his  thirst,  and  highly  praised 
The  fountain's  beauty  and  the  limpid  water. 
Warm  blushes  irrepressible  suffused 
The  face  of  Sulamith  as  she  responded, 
And  put  into  his  hand  a  silver  cup, 
Brimming  and  dripping  with  its  crystal  contents, 
Which  eagerly  he  quaffed,   and  thanked  the  giver, 
As  though  he  had  received  a  priceless  boon. 
And  then,  as  loath  to  close  the  interview, 
He  questioned  her  of  mountain  summits  near, 
And  streams  that  gleamed  on  the  adjacent  plain, 
Or  of  the  flocks,  the  vineyards  and  the  orchards ; 
Then  showed  to  her  the  treasures  he  had  gathered 
In  his  far  mountain  rambles  through  the  day. 
From  these  he  culled   some  flowers   he  deemed   the 

fairest, 
And    begged    that    she    would    keep    them    till   they 

faded, 


46  SULAMITH. 


In  memory  of  the  wearied,   thirsty  stranger 
To  whose  refreshment  she  had  ministered. 
And  so  the  talk  ran  on,  with  some  bright  sallies 
Of  wit  and  merriment,  which,  though  so  lightly 
Thus  bandied  back  and  forth  between  the  two, 
Were  yet  the  shuttles  that  were  firmly  weaving 
An  unseen  web,  the  warp  and  woof  of  which 
Their  kindred  hearts  supplied. 

Thus,  all  too  soon, 
The    bright    hour   passed,    and    brought    its    parting 

time. 

The  stranger's  form  to  Sulamith  was  lost 
Upon  the  shadowed  path  ;  but  all  night  long, 
Still  by  the  fountain — in  her  dreams — the  two 
Held  happy  converse,   till  the  morning  light 
Dispelled  the  sweet  illusion.     But,  as  though 
It  was  the  fitting  sequel  to  her  dream, 
There  rose,  from  far  below,   upon  the  air, 
These  ringing  words,   in  which  she  recognized 
The  voice  whose  music  had  begun  to  wake 
Its  echoes  in  her  soul : 


DA  WN.  47 


SONG. 


The  reddening  sky 

Is  heralding  day  ; 
Rise,    O  beloved  ! 

Come,    fair  one,   away. 

The  winter  is  past ; 

Gone  the  chill  rain  ; 
Spring  broods  over  earth, 

And  flowers  bloom  again. 

Well  do  the  birds  know 
Their  time  to  rejoice  ; 

On  the  still  air  floats 
The  dove's  cooing  voice. 

The  fig  tree  its  figs 
To  ripeness  refines  ; 

And  fragrance  distills 
From  blossoming  vines. 

The  mountains  have  caught 
The  glow  of  the  skies  ; 


48  SULAMITH, 


Wake,   my  beloved  ; 
My  fair  one,   arise  ! 

From  clefts  of  the  rocks, 
Thy  dwelling  place  high, 

Oh,   hither,   my  dove, 

With  love's  fleetness  fly  ! 

Smile,   beautiful  face, 
Again,   smile  on  me, 

And  thrill  me,   sweet  voice, 
With  love's  melody. 


V. 


LOVE. 

O  Sulamith  there  never  was  a  morn 
So  rarely  beautiful ;  never  was  light 
So  softly  golden,  or  the  songs  of  birds 
So  rich  in  melody,  or  whispering  breezes 
So  balmy  with  the  breath  of  spring  or  laden 
With  such  sweet  fragrance  of  the  dewy  flowers. 
The  stranger's  unforgotten  words  still  thrilled  her; 
Her  waking  thoughts  were  haunted  by  her  dreams ; 
And  ceaselessly  the  music  of  his  song, 
That  broke  their  spell,  kept  ringing  in  her  ears. 

Deem  it  not  strange,  that  thus  the  plant  of  love — 
Oft  now  of  slow  and  hesitating  growth — 
Should  spring  with  tropical  luxuriance, 
Beneath  the  warmth  of  oriental  skies, 
And  nearer  to  the  fresh  simplicity 

4  49 


50  SULAMITH. 

That  beautified  the  morning  of  the  world 
Than  these  its  dimmer  hours  of  far-spent  day. 

Yet  Sulamith  well  knew  a  maiden's  heart 
Should  not  be  lightly  won.     With  much  self-scorn, 
She  viewed  the  sudden  tumult  into  which 
An  interview  so  brief  with  one  unknown 
Had  somehow  stirred  her ;  and  she  chid  herself, 
With  sharp  severity,  for  the  weak  fondness 
With  which  she  dwelt  upon  his  words  and  smiles, 
That  would  have  been  the  same,  she  doubted  not, 
Had  any  other  maiden  chanced,  as  she, 
To  give  him  drink  when  thirsty,  or  to  heed 
Too  eagerly  his  pleasant  courtesies. 
'Twas  but  a  passing  fancy,  and  would  go 
As  causelessly  and  fleetly  as  it  came. 

Thus  with  her  well-trained  judgment  and  a  will 
Strong  by  inheritance,  she  schooled  her  heart 
And  sealed  her  lips  on  what  she  deemed  her  folly ; 
And  as,  in  spite  of  all  this  self-repression, 
The  plant  of  love  kept  growing  more  and  more, 
Its  tender  buds  unfolding  into  blossoms 
Of  rose-red  hue  and  perfume  passing  sweet, 


LOVE.  51 

She  pulled  them  from  their  stems,  and,  half  in  pity 
And  half  in  anger,  tore  apart  their  petals 
And  flung  them  to  the  winds  ;  nay,  would  have  plucked 
From  out  her  heart  the  plant  itself  which  bore  them, 
But  that  the  very  thought  was  deadly  pain. 

Her  elder  brothers  greatly  loved  the  chase, 
And  now — the  tasks  of  early  spring  performed — 
Were  scaling  mountain-steeps,  or  plunging  far 
Into  their  deep  recesses,  seldom  trod 
By  ev'n  adventurous  feet, — Amana's  top, 
Shenir's  and  Hermon,  and  the  lions'  dens 
And  lairs  of  leopards.     From  their  practiced  hands, 
Of  strength  and  skill  that  long-trained  warriors 
Might  well  have  envied,  sped  the  hurtling  spear, 
Or  from  their  twanging  bows  the  barbed  arrows, 
That  bore  swift  death  to  the  fast-fleeing  game, 
And  e'en  brought  to  their  feet  the  pierced  gazelle 
From  overhanging  cliff,  that  towered  above 
All  but  its  rare  capacity  to  climb, 
Or  stretch  of  eagle's  or  of  arrow's  flight. 

When,  after  days  of  absence,  they  returned, 
With  prey  well  laden,  and  with  many  a  tale 


52  SULAMITH. 


Of  perils  'scaped  and  triumphs  hardly  won, 

Warm  was  their  praise  of  one  they  chanced  to  meet 

In  their  excursion,  and  with  whom  they  shared 

The  pleasure  of  their  manifold  exploits. 

Long  did  they  dwell  upon  his  strength  and  beauty, — 

How  much  he  knew  of  wood-craft,  but  how  small 

His  skill  or  practice  in  the  huntsman's  art; 

And  yet  how  ready  and  how  apt  to  learn  : 

And  how  the  keenness  of  his  wit,  his  jests, 

His  ringing  laughter,  and  his  well-told  tales 

Had  made  the  days,  while  he  was  their  companion, 

To  fly  so  fast  they  sorrowed  at  their  close. 

He  had  not  chanced  to  tell  to  them  his  name, 

And  something  in  him — what,  they  could  not  say — 

Had  held  in  check  their  curiosity. 

They  only  knew  he  sojourned  with  the  shepherds 

And  vineyard-keepers  of  the  king's  possessions, 

At  Baal  Hamon,  which  was  some  leagues  distant, 

Upon  a  sunny  slope  of  Lebanon. 

An  eager  auditor  was  Sulamith  ; 
But  silent,  for  she  doubted  not  that  he 
Her  brothers  praised  was  he  on  whom  her  thoughts 
So  fondly  dwelt.     Hence,  more  than  ever  glowed 


LOVE.  53 

The  hidden  flame,  and  more  profusely  grew 

The  blushing  flowers,  that  from  their  stems  no  longer 

Were  rudely  torn  and  scattered  to  the  winds. 

Nor  was  it  long  before  she  heard  again 

The  voice  too  well  remembered  and  beheld 

The  form  and  face  she  never  could  forget. 

Not  wholly  now  a  stranger,  as  at  first, 

He  came.     Her  brothers  gave  him  hearty  greeting  ; 

And,  more  than  words,  her  mother's  smile  bespoke 

A  kindly  welcome ;  and  her  own  low  voice — 

Which,  through  a  resolute  exercise  of  will, 

Told  nothing  of  the  throbbings  of  her  heart — 

Spoke  fittingly  her  frank  corroboration. 

The    evening  meal    was   spread,    with   viands 

choice 

And  plentiful,  though  simple, — luscious  fruits, 
Butter  and  milk  of  kine,  with  bread  and  honey, 
And  steaming  venison  of  savory  odor ; — 
For  answering  appetites  that  mountain  air 
And  exercise  had  whetted  into  keenness. 
The  guest,  when  hospitably  urged  to  share  it, 
Showed  pleased  assent,  but  still  a  moment  paused, 
With  slight  embarrassment,  and  thus  he  spoke: 


54  SULAMITH. 


''Good  friends,  your  kindness  makes  me  much 

your  debtor, 

And  surely  claims  that  you  at  least  should  know 
Something  of  him  on  whom  it  is  bestowed. 
The  name  of  *Jedidiah  which  I  bear — 
Given  by  one  whose  partiality 
Its  meaning  far  too  plainly  indicates — 
Is  illy  mated  with  my  scant  deserts, 
And  so  presumptuous  or  self-flattering  seems — 
Though  earnestly  I  crave  the  hinted  blessing — •• 
That  I  bespeak  a  humbler  appellation. 
Call  me,  I  pray,  'the  youth  of  Baal  Hamon. ' 
Or,  since  I  sojourn  with  the  shepherds  there, 
And  since  my  father  was  a  shepherd  boy, 
And,  in  his  riper  years,  a  flock  has  tended 
Less  tractable  than  sheep,  let  me  be  known 
But  as  "the  shepherd,"  or  'the  shepherd's  son.' 
This  only  do  I  further  need  to  say  : 
It  is  my  privilege  to  claim  such  kinship 
With  you,  the  household  of  Amminadib, 
As  our  joint  tribal  place  in  Judah  gives." 


*Beloved  of  the  Lord. 


L  O  VE.  55 

Well  pleased  were  all,   and  friendship's  arms 

at  once 

Were  opened  to  receive  him,  while  there  burned 
A  warmer  feeling  in  the  maiden's  heart, 
Which  secretly  resolved,  that  the  dear  name, 
So  modestly  renounced  by  him  who  bore  it, 
Should  be  its  hoarded  treasure,  though  her  lips 
Might  frame  themselves  to  lightly  speak  another. 
So   from   that  hour   she   always   called   him   "shep 
herd," 

While,  in  her  heart,  she  whispered   "Jedidiah," 
And  with  the  love  divine  allied  the  human. 

WThen  ended  the  repast,  at  which  they  lingered, 
In  rare  enjoyment  of  its  social  cheer, 
The  richer  feast  of  genial  fellowship, 
Of  kindred  souls  unsated,   still  went  on : 
Then  in  a  parting  psalm  of  joyous  praise, 
To  Him  who  is  the  fount  of  life  and  good, 
Their  voices  blended,   with  the  accompaniment 
Of  harp  and  viol.     Then  the  shepherd  spoke 
His  thanks  and  his  farewell,  ere  he  departed 
To  seek  his  lodging  in  the  shepherd's  tent, 
Pitched  at  the  mountain's  base.     To  Sulamith, 


56  SULAMITH. 


More  than  his  words,  his  lingering  gaze  had  spoken 
That  which  again  gave  sweetness  to  her  dreams. 

His  parting  look  and  others  of  its  kind, 
Through  which  his  soul  had  flashed  intelligence 
Of  feelings  that  were  kindling  in  its  depths, 
Availed  to  put  to  flight  the  self-contempt 
With  which,  before  their  revelations  came, 
The  heart  of  Sulamith  had  vainly  sought 
To  quell  the  love  that,  without  warrant  due, 
Had  seized  its  citadel  and  held  possession. 
True,  she  could  never  build  on  looks  alone 
A  confidence  so  strong  that  she  would  show — 
At  least  show  purposely — responsive  feeling, 
By  single  answering  glance  or  tell-tale  blush. — 
Not  so,   if  eyes,  or  blood  that  surged  within, 
Would  acquiesce  in  strictest  guardianship 
And  planned  repression  by  the  regnant  will, 
Should  her  sweet  secret  ever  be  betrayed. 

But  why  should  love  of  what  is  lovable 
Be  scorned  or  questioned,  e'en  in  giving  all, 
And  for  its  lavishment  receiving  naught? 
What  knows  or  cares  the  earth  or  sea  or  sky, 


LOVE.  57 

Enrobed  with  morning's  beauty,  of  the  thrills 

Of  rapturous  admiration  waked  thereby — 

And  without  fault — in  nature-loving  hearts? 

The  pictures  which  her  father's  hand  had  drawn, 

In  living  colors,  of  the  great  and  good, 

Were  hung  upon  the  walls  of  her  soul's  chambers, 

And  almost  idolized  as  bright  ideals 

Of  what  in  life  is  noblest,   loveliest ; 

Yet  was  she  not  ashamed  to  realize 

That  no  reflection  of  her  deep  devotion 

E'er  on  her  shone  from  their  unchanging  features. 

And  why  might  not  her  heart  as  blamelessly 

Render  the  tribute  of  its  love  to  him 

Who,  in  his  living  self,  for  her  embodied 

Like  winning  traits  of  grace  and  nobleness, 

E'en  though,   for  all  its  lavished  treasures,  he 

Should  yield  her  no  return  or  recognition? 

The  days,  the  weeks,  went  by,  and  still   the 

shepherd — 

So  let  him  now  be  called — was  seen  no  more 
When  passed  in  sight  the  flocks  of  Baal  Hamon. 
The  brothers  only  knew  that  he  had  been 
Suddenly  summoned  to  Jerusalem, 


58  SULAMITH. 


And  that  it  was  his  purpose  to  return 

With  such  dispatch  as  might  be  in  his  power. 

The  bloom  of  Spring  was  gone,  and  Summer's  fervors 

Had  scorched  its  lingering  herbage;  yet  he  came  not. 

No  word  of  Sulamith  deplored  his  absence ; 

But,  o'er  the  mountain  slope  and  the  wide  plain, 

Far  as  her  eye  could  note  the  passing  forms, 

She  watched,  day  after  day,  with  eager  hope 

That  he  for  whom  she  longed  would  be  among  them  ; 

Yet,  though  so  vainly,  neither  look  nor  sigh 

Gave  outward  token  of  her  disappointment. 

The  cheerful  patience  of  her  love  and  trust 

Unfaltering  stood  the  tests  that  sorely  tried  it ; 

And  daily  tasks  so  filled  her  hands  and  thoughts, 

That  scanty  room  was  left  for  weak  repining. 

And,   oftentimes,  a  wondrous  gift  she  had, 

For  peopling  solitude  with  the  creations 

Of  vivid  memory  or  imagination, 

Filled  all  the  nooks  of  home  and  mountain  haunts 

With  images  of  the  beloved  departed. 

Among  her  spirit's  visions,  she  beheld 

The  shepherd's  face  and  form,  and,  with  the  ear 

To  which  all  silence  speaks,  would  hear  again 

The  music  of  his  voice  in  speech  or  song. 


LOVE.  59 

Once,  near  the  sunset  of  a  busy  day, 
At  which  the  heat  of  the  advancing  season 
Was  gratefully  tempered  by  the  cooling  air, 
Upon  her  rocky  seat  beside  the  fountain, 
She  sat  with  half-closed  eyes  that  scarcely  noted 
The  flashing  segment  of  the  sinking  sun  ; 
Nor,  in  her  deep  absorption,  did  she  hear 
The  sound  of  footfalls  that  were  close  at  hand ; 
To  all  oblivious,  till  a  thrilling  touch, 
A  hand  laid  on  her  own,  dissolved  the  spell, 
And  tender,  pleading,  unforgotten  tones, 
Which  almost  hushed  the  beatings  of  her  heart, 
And,  notwithstanding  all  she  had  resolved, 
Sent  to  her  cheek  and  brow  its  crimson  tide, 
Made  music  of  the  sweet  name  Sulamith. 
But  scarce  a  moment  was  she  left  to  feel 
The  flush  of  maiden  shame  at  this  betrayal 
Of  her  heart's  secret,  caused  by  her  surprise. 
The  Shepherd, — he  it  was, — as  though  he  saw  not 
Her  beautiful  confusion,  or  because 
He  was  too  manly  to  avail  himself 
Of  an  unfair  advantage,  gave,  at  once, 
In  these  warm  words,  that  yet  were  humbly  spoken, 
Full  utterance  to  his  feelings,  long  restrained : 


60  SULAMITH. 

"Oh,  Sulamith,  when  first  I  met  thee  here, 
'T  was  thy  dear  hand  which,  from  these  pure,  cold 

waters, 
Gave  me  the  sparkling   draught   that   quenched   my 

thirst ; 

But  even  while  its  seasonable  refreshment 
Assuaged  the  fever  of  my  blood  and  brain, 
My  soul  grew  conscious  of  a  deeper  want, 
And  every  lingering  hour  that  since  has  followed 
Has  made  it  but  the  more  importunate ; 
And  now,  intense  and  irrepressible, 
It  drives  me  to  the  fountain  whence  alone, 
Its  passionate  craving  can  be  satisfied. 
As  desert  wanderers  for  water  thirst, 
So  thirsts  my  soul,  oh  Sulamith,  for  thee. ' ' 

For  one  brief  moment  of  bewilderment, 
And  rapid  rallying  of  her  scattered  thoughts, 
And  dawning  certainty,  that  what  she  saw 
And  heard  and  felt  was  not  a  blissful  dream, 
Her  lips  were  silent  and  her  eyes  were  downcast ; 
Then,  with  instinctive  grace,  and  artlessly, 
She  dipped  her  silver  cup  into  the  fountain, 
As  she  had  done  that  memorable  eve, 


LOVE.  61 

And  filling  it  again  to  overflowing, 
She  softly  said,  or  rather  seemed  to  say, 
More  through  the  sweet  significance  of  look 
And  attitude  and  proffered  draught,  than  low, 
Scarce  uttered  words,  ' '  Let  him  that  thirsteth  drink  ! ' ' 

One  joy  of  Eden,  Eden's  loss  survived, 
And  through  the  gate  went  with  the  fallen  pair, 
Ere  o'er  that  gate  was  set  the  cherubim 
And  flaming  sword,  to  keep  the  way  of  life. 
Oft  still  it  seems  untouched  with  blight  of  sin, 
And  oft  it  works  enchantment,  bringing  back 
To  earth  anew  the  vanished  Paradise, 
Its  mellowed  brightness  and  its  odorous  air, 
Its  parted  streams  that  flow  through  lands  of  gold, 
And  precious  stones — or  are  they  flashing  dew-drops, 
On  its  fresh  verdure  and  unfaded  flowers? — 
This  joy  of  Eden  is  the  joy  of  love 
When  first  enkindled  in  responsive  hearts 
Of  those  not  fallen  from  early  innocence. 
Such  love,  with  flowers  so  pure  and  delicate, 
Unhandled  and  unsullied,  and  with  fruits 
On  which  the  bloom  yet  lingered  undespoiled, 
Filled  with  an  overflowing  blessedness 


62  SULAMITH. 


The  heart  of  Sulamith  and  his  whom  now 

She  called  her  Shepherd,  and,  in  tenderest  thought, 

Named  Jedidiah,  of  the  Lord  beloved. 

Oh,  story  old  as  is  humanity  ! 
Yet  not  outworn,  forever  freshly  new  ; 
And  oh,  experience,  common  as  is  heart 
That  answereth  to  heart  in  man  and  woman 
Of  every  generation,  every  clime  ! 
But  with  its  more  than  myriad  variations, 
Each  one  a  special  charm,  a  rare  delight ; 
Nor  ever  more  so  than  was  realized 
By  these  on  whom  love's  roseate  light  had  dawned 
With  such  surpassing  brightness,  that  it  seemed 
Above  all  Lebanon's  glory  and  the  world's, 
Flooding  their  souls  with  rapture  as  unique, 
Novel  and  vivid  as  they  might  have  felt, 
If,  like  the  two  thrilled  hearts  that  waked  in  Eden, 
The}'  were  the  first  and  only  who  had  learned 
The  secret  of  its  wondrous  blessedness. 

Soon  they  among  whom  these  enchanted  ones 
Mingled  in  life's  familiar  intercourse, 
Knew  of  the  change  that  could  not  be  concealed, 


LOVE.  63 

So  visibly  the  gladness  which  it  wrought 

Beamed  from  their  faces,  breathed  in  all  their  words, 

And  floated  on  the  air  in  happy  songs. 

But  Sulamith  at  once  had  sought  her  mother, 

And  with  her  glowing  face  hid  in  her  bosom, 

Had  told  the  tender  tale.     It  deeply  stirred 

The  sympathy  of  that  fond  mother's  heart ; 

And  brought  quick  tears,  that  partly  were  of  joy 

And  partly  sorrow,  at  the  memories 

Of  kindred  scenes  and  feelings  of  her  own, — 

Sweet  dreams  of  life's  fresh  morn,  all,  long  ago, 

So  rudely  broken  and  forever  fled. 

The    summer,    with    its    ripening    fruits    and 
harvests, 

And  withering  heat  of  blazing  suns,  from  which 
The  ever  cool  retreats  and  breezy  steeps 
Of  Lebanon  unfailing  refuge  gave, 
Was  hastening  to  its  close.     Think  not  of  all 
Its  fleeting  days  to  love's  endearments  given; 
Both  Sulamith  and  he  she  called  her  Shepherd 
Had  fitting  work  to  do,  and  it  was  done 
Faithfully  in  its  season.     All  their  converse 
Was  not  of  love  alone.     Far  other  themes 


64  SULAMITH. 

Oft  held  their  earnest  thought  nor  failed  to  give 

A  tireless  charm  and  zest  to  their  communion. 

The  shepherd  brought,  for  mutual  inspection, 

Rare  treasures  gathered  from  the  woods  and  fields, 

And  nature's  wonders,  nature's  beauties  more, 

Stirred  all  their  souls  to  praise  and  tenderness, 

And  blended  awe  and  love  for  nature's  God. 

Thus  wisely,  worthily  diversified, 

The  sweetness  of  their  daily  intercourse 

Grew  more  intensely  sweet,  yet  never  cloyed. 

But  when  is  earthly  happiness  complete? 

Some  nameless  apprehension  or  unrest, 

Some  cloud,  invisible  to  other  eyes, 

E'en  to  the  heart  that  basks  in  golden  beams, 

Nor  knows  it  may  not  evermore  rejoice, 

Will  bring  a  passing  shadow  unexplained — 

A  vague  and  dream-like  sadness,  simply  felt, 

Not  understood.     And  so  \vith  Sulamith  : 

At  times  to  her  a  strange  foreboding  came, 

Or  sense  of  mystery  that  might  at  last 

Unfold  the  secret  that  would  bring  her  woe. 

Once,  when  this  mood  of  sadness  and  of  doubt 
Had  causelessly  swept  o'er  her,  she  espied, 


LOVE.  65 

On  the  declivity,  not  far  below, 
And  nearer  than  the  flock  and  his  companions, 
The  Shepherd  passing  by.     Impulsively, 
With  beat  of  timbrel  and  with  rythmic  words 
To  which  the  plaintive  music  lent  a  pathos 
Beyond  their  simple  meaning — thus  she  signaled 
Appealingly  the  sadness  of  her  heart : 

SULAMITH'S  CALL. 

Tell  me,   beloved,   where  feeds  thy  flock? 

And  where,   in  shadow  of  tree  or  rock 

Or  grassy  dell,    shall  its  resting  be? 

For  fain,   with  it,   would  I  follow  thee. 

Ah,  why,   when  the  sheep  thou  leadest  hide 

From  the  driving  storm  or  the  hot  noontide, 

Should  I  be  as  one  that  turns  aside,     i 

As  a  wanderer  who  has  no  share 

In  the  shepherd's  tender  love  and   care? 

Scarce  had  her  sad  song  into  silence  died, 
Ere,  like  an  echo,  but  in  utter  contrast 
With  its  deep  mournfulness,  joyous,  exultant, 
Rang  the  response  that  brought  her  reassurance : 


66  SULAMITH. 


THE  SHEPHERD'S  ANSWER. 

If,  oh,   thou   fairest  of  women,  indeed, 
Thou  knowest  not  whither  my  flock  I  lead, 
Then  after  its  footsteps  follow  fast  ; 
And,  before  the  noontide  hour  is  past, 
The  tent  of  the  Shepherd  thou  shalt  see, 
Under  the  shadow  of  rock  or  tree, 
Or  in  grassy  dell,   awaiting  thee  ! 
And  none,   oh,   best  beloved,   shall  share 
As  thou  in  the  shepherd's  love  and  care. 


VI. 
SOLOMON. 

JHE  robe  of  Summer,  the  bequest  of  Spring, 
That  in  her  yet  unwithered  beauty  died, 
Of  fresh,  deep  green  and  garniture  of  flowers, 
And  wreathing  roses  blown  each  dewy  morn, 
Was  now  worn  threadbare,  and  was  colorless, 
Dusty  and  soiled  and  tattered  by  the  winds ; 
While  broad,  bald  spaces  of  the  hills  and  plains 
Were  left  in  their  unsightly  nakedness. 

But  not  with  summer's  early  flowers  had  faded 
The  love  of  Sulamith  ;  for,  through  all  changes, 
Changeless  it  grew,  perennially  it  bloomed, 
And  with  unwasting  fragrance  filled  her  soul. 
Yet,  with  the  autumn's  soft  and  dream-like  haze, 
And  charm  of  pleasing  sadness  in  the  air, 
There  brooded  over  her  a  kindred  feeling, 
A  melancholy  which  was  void  of  pain 
Or  bitterness,  and  sweeter  far  than  joy 

67 


68  SULAMITH. 


That  blazes  fitfully  in  loveless  hearts. 

Gone  was  the  living  presence  from  her  side 

That  most  of  all  had  made  the  summer  bright. 

Alone  she  walked  among  the  leafless  vines, 

And  trees  that  glowed  with  ripening  autumn  fruits ; 

Fond,  joyous  memories  her  sole  companions, 

Save  as  these  changed  to  longings  and  regrets. 

The  shepherd  had  been  summoned  yet  again 
On  urgent  business  of  serious  moment ; 
But  not,  as  heretofore,  was  his  departure 
So  sudden,  but  that  ample  time  was  left 
For  some  last,  lingering  words  with  Sulamith, 
And  pledges  oft  repeated,  sweetly  sealed, 
That  in  due  season  they  should  meet  again, 
And  then — glad  hope — the  happy  meeting  be 
To  which  death  only  should  its  parting  bring. 

A  shadow  of  impending  change,  meanwhile, 
Had  spread  and  deepened  over  all  the  land  ; 
For  Israel's  greatest  king  and  conqueror, 
Though  scarce  were  spent  his  three-score  years  and  ten, 
Was  slowly  drawing  near  the  dreaded  end 
Of  his  eventful  life  and  glorious  reign. 


SOLOMON.  69 


The  final  breaking  of  his  matchless  strength, 
Though  prematurely,  had  not  strangely  come : 
For,  with  the  exception  of  ten  peaceful  years 
Before  the  close,  and  in  his  early  youth, 
The  utmost  vigor  of  his  mind  and  frame 
Had  ceaselessly  been  tasked,  in  mortal  struggles 
With  ever-rising  storms  that  beat  upon  him. 
And,  more  than  all  of  these,  his  one  great  sin, 
Remorse  and  wounded  pride  and  hopeless  griefs 
Which,  to  the  last,  flowed  from  this  bitter  spring, 
Had  drained  his  energies  and  quenched  the  light 
Of  hope  and  courage  which,  till  then,  had  shone 
As  guiding  stars  undimmed  on  darkest  skies. 

His  virgin  daughter,  passing  fair  and  dear, 
Was  worse — oh,  worse  unspeakably — than  slain 
By  her  own  brother,   David's  first-born  son, 
And  he  in  turn  struck  down  by  her  avenger, 
The  favorite  Absalom  for  beauty  famed  ; 
Then  this  now  heir  apparent  to  the  throne, 
Too  readily  forgiven,  and  restored 
To  high  position  in  his  father's  court, 
Unschooled  to  patient  waiting  for  the  fruit 
So  sure  to  fall  into  his  ea^er  hands 


70  SULAMITH. 


At  its  fast  golden  ripening ;  seizing  on  it, — 

A  traitor  and  a  would-be  parricide, — 

Fell  headlong  from  the  height  to  which  he  clomb, 

And  met  his  righteous  doom,  but  broke  the  heart 

That  o'er  him  yearned  with  deathless  love,  through  all. 

Some  gleams  of  consolation  must  have  cheered 
The  chastened  monarch's  deeply  contrite  spirit, 
When  came  at  last  his  closing  years  of  peace, — 
Mild  sunset  rays  after  a  day  of  storm, 
The  presages  of  an  unclouded  morrow ; 
And  something  near  to  joy  he  must  have  known, 
In  giving  all  his  unspent  energies, 
In  lavishing  his  own  long-hoarded  treasures, 
And  gathering  from  the  tribes  of  Israel 
And  tributary  nations,  fitting  stores 
Wherewith  to  build  and  beautify  the  Temple, 
That  like  a  crown  of  gold,  thick  set  with  gems, 
Should  shine  on  Mount  Moriah's  rocky  brow ; 
Already  planned  by  its  great  Architect, 
But  only  to  be  reared  by  one  whose  hands 
Had  not  been  stained,  as  his,  with  crime  and  blood. 

With  this  completion  of  his  closing  task, 


SOLOMON.  71 


Sudden  collapse  of  interest  and  vigor 
Together  followed ;  and  the  aged  king, 
With  wearied  head  reclined,  and  folded  hands, 
And  welcoming  heart,  awaited  dreamless  sleep ; 
And  many  a  patriot  Israelite,  perplexed, 
Pondered  the  question:  "Who  shall  be  his  heir? 
Amnon  and  Absalom  gone,  left  Adonijah, 
Who,  all  men  fully  knew,  was  to  himself 
The  heir  expectant ;  and  if  goodliness 
Of  form  and  feature  right  and  fitness  gave 
To  wield  the  sceptre  of  a  Saul  and  David, 
Then  had  his  lofty  claim  unchallenged  stood  ; 
But  rashness,  shallowness  and  self-conceit 
Are  ever  illy  matched  with  princely  grace. 
There  yet  remained  a  younger  of  the  sons, 
He  of  the  fair  Bathsheba  (frail  as  fair, 
Of  virtuous  preference  and  answering  life, 
Faithful  and  pure,  when  not  by  others  swerved ; 
But,  as  the  reed  that  bends  with  every  wind, 
So  weakly  pliant  to  each  stronger  will). 

In  Solomon  his  mother's  comeliness 
Was  blended  with  his  father's  manly  strength, 
Though  in  the  blending  possibly  was  lost 


72  SULAM1TH. 


Something  of  beauty,  doubtless  more  of  vigor. 
His  youth  was  blameless,  innocent  his  tastes, 
And,  better  than  the  city's  throng  and  turmoil, 
He  loved  the  mountains,  forests,  fields  and  streams ; 
And  so,  amid  the  healthful  scenes  of  nature, 
His  body  and  his  soul  to  largeness  grew. 
The  scholar  of  his  age  and  scientist, 
He  mastered  all  yet  scantly  written  lore, 
And  eagerly  he  searched  the  open  scriptures, 
Whereon  are  traced  the  wonders  and  the  glories 
Of  lands  and  seas  and  skies,  the  mysteries 
Of  human  hearts  and  lives,  of  sin  and  God. 
Nor  ever  aimlessly  or  selfishly 

Were   treasured   up   his   gathered    hoards   of    know 
ledge; 

He  passed  them  through  the  alembic  of  his  thought, 
And  stored  the  rich  results  for  worthy  uses, — 
His  own,  his  nation's,  e'en  the  world's,  the  ages'. 
And  often  in  his  glowing  soul  were  born 
The  poet's  dreams  of  beauty,  and  his  songs 
That  artlessly  and  freely  from  him  flowed, 
As  music-making  rills  flow  from  their  fountains. 

So  had  he  early  found  an  ample  scope 


SOLOMON.  73 


For  all  rare  gifts  wherewith  he  was  endowed, — 

A  kingdom  of  the  soul,  of  range  as  wide 

As  sweeps  imagination's  tireless  wing ; 

High  reaching  as  aspirings  after  God ; 

Rich  in  all  real  sources  of  delight 

And  good  for  man,  whate'er  his  state  may  be. 

Nor  sought  he  more  than  such  high  privilege, 

As  thus,  with  unblurred  vision  of  his  youth, 

He  for  himself  had  recognized  and  prized 

Above  all  price,  and  made  his  choice  supreme. 

Nathan  the  Seer,  his  teacher  in  the  law, 
His  spiritual  guide  and  swerveless  friend, 
Had  early,  in  Jehovah's  name,  announced 
That  he  should  sit  upon  his  father's  throne; 
And  David,  with  unquestioning  acceptance 
Of  the  divine  decree,  had  given  Bathsheba 
His  solemn  promise  it  should  be  obeyed ; 
But  to  none  others,   not  even  Solomon, 
Was  intimation  of  his  purpose  made. 
Hence  no  disturbing  dream  of  future  greatness 
Marred  Solomon's  contentment,  or  did  aught 
To  thwart  his  simpler,  nobler,  grander  aim. 
Ah !  better,  happier,  had  it  been  for  him, 


74  SULAMITH. 


If  far  from  him  forever  had  been  kept, 
Both  dream  and  answering  reality. 

Only  when  Adonijah's  mad  attempt 
To  wrest  the  kingdom  from  his  father's  hands — 
Ere  on  it  death  had  loosed  their  failing  hold — 
Had  brought  precipitation  of  events, 
And  made  imperative  the  proclamation 
Of  David's  final  choice,  had  Solomon 
Known  aught  of  what  was  purposed.     His  life-scheme 
Thus  set  aside,  recoiling  and  oppressed 
With  sense  of  unpreparedness  to  rule 
Over  a  kingdom  to  such  greatness  grown, 
Yet  meekly  bowing  to  his  father's  will, 
And  well  assured  it  was  the  will  of  God, 
With  many  a  prayer  for  help  in  his  felt  weakness, 
He  took,  reluctantly,  the  offered  sceptre  ; 
And  so  that  long  and  peaceful  reign  began 
Which  reached  a  pitch  of  proud  magnificence, 
That  waked  the  praise  and  wonder  of  the  world, 
And  yet  beneath  its  outward  glory  hid 
The  elements  of  sure  and  swift  decay. 


VII. 
FORESH  ADO  WINGS. 

HOT  as  the  electric  flash  that  now  transmits 
Its  record  of  events  to  distant  lands, 
Traveled  the  tidings  of  momentous  change 
Wrought  in  the  sovereignty  of  Israel ; 
But,  spreading  and  advancing,  day  by  day, 
As  spread  the  circling  ripples  of  a  pool 
From  where  it  has  been  stirred  by  plunging  stone, 
They  reached  betimes  to  Lebanon's  retreats; 
And  to  the  household  of  Amminadib 
Brought  sorrow  for  the  mighty  monarch's  death. 
But  they  rejoiced  that  in  his  room  and  stead 
Reigned  Solomon  his  son,  famed  through  the  land 
For  wisdom,  goodness,  grace  and  modesty, — 
Virtues  too  rare  among  the  royal  brothers. 

Scarce  had  subsided  into  wonted  quiet 
The  brief  commotion  by  the  news  aroused, 

75 


76  SULAMITH. 

Ere  at  the  cottage  messengers  arrived 
Bearing  the  signet  of  the  new-made  king, 
And  with  it  his  behests :     The  Syrian  sons 
Should  take  the  management  of  his  estates, 
His  vineyards  and  his  flocks  at  Baal  Hamon ; 
And  from  contiguous  regions  should  collect 
The  royal  revenues.     And,  furthermore, 
It  was  the  sovereign  will  of  Solomon, 
Nor  less  the  dictate  of  his  gracious  heart, 
That  Sulamith  the  beautiful,  their  sister, 
Should  be  his  bride  and  sharer  of  his  throne. 

All  were  amazed,  as  if  from  cloudless  skies 
Had  crashed  a  thunder-peal.     The  elder  sons 
Were  much  elated  at  their  own  promotion ; 
Nor  doubted  they  the  king's  prerogative 
To  set  aside,  at  his  mere  will  and  pleasure, 
Their  shepherd-friend's  betrothal  with  their  sister, 
Which,  as  they  knew,  had  not  been  ratified 
By  such  accustomed  usages  and  forms 
As  made  betrothal,  scarcely  less  than  marriage, 
Of  binding  force  and  sacred  obligation. 
Nor  in  his  absence,  now  so  far  prolonged 
Beyond  the  expected  time  for  his  return, 


FORESHADO  WINGS.  77 


Had  tidings  reached  them  of  his  place  or  state. 
If  still  he  lived,  some  other  comely  maiden 
Perchance  had  won  his  heart  from  Sulamith. 
But  be  it  as  it  might,  the  king's  command 
Left  no  alternative  but  to  obey. 

Least  moved  of  all  seemed  Sulamith.     Her  face 
An  ashen  paleness  wore,  but  all  its  lines 
Were  rigid  with  the  high  and  fixed  resolve 
Of  her  unfaltering  soul.     Ah,  now  she  knew 
Why  shadows  oft  had  dimmed  her  brightest  dreams, 
And  phantom  shapes,  that  warned  of  coming  ill, 
Haunted  her  waking  thoughts  from  day  to  day. 
Yet  stood  she  as  the  house  upon  the  rock, 
On  which,  from  thunder  clouds,  might  torrents  pour 
And  lightnings  strike,  but  unavailing  all 
To  shake  the  steadfastness  of  its  foundation. 
Her  heart  might  break,  but  would  not  be  untrue ; 
Her  love  and  life  could  but  together  die. 

Meanwhile  the  messengers  in  silence  stood, 
Waiting  the  brothers'  answer ;  but  their  eyes 
Had  caught  a  look  upon  their  sister's  face 
They  dared  not  misinterpret.     Still  they  hoped 


78  SULAM1TH. 


That,  possibly,  delay  might  serve  to  bring 

Some  wavering  of  her  purpose,  yet  too  strong — 

They  plainly  saw — to  yield  at  sternest  bidding. 

Vainly !  for  Sulamith's  true  womanhood 

Had,  in  the  moment,  grown  to  its  full  height, 

And  shaken  off  all  artificial  bonds 

Of  deference  to  man's  supreme  dictation, 

In  questions  that  concerned  her  woman's  heart. 

The  brothers  simply,  with  profound  obeisance, 
Their  loyalty  avowed  and  readiness 
To  do  the  king's  commands.     Then  Sulamith 
In  suppliance  bowed  before  the  messengers, 
And  thus  her  blended  prayer  and  purpose  spoke : 

"Behold,  the  handmaid  of  the  king,  who  waits 
To  be  or  do  whatever  he  requires, 
Save  in  the  things  which  God  and  right  forbid. 
That  she  has  found  such  favor  in  his  sight 
Is  marvelous  to  her,  who  is  unworthy 
To  kiss  his  royal  robe.     Oh,  say  to  him, 
That  for  the  proffered  honor  she  is  grateful, 
And  with  her  life  its  memory  shall  live : — 
The  king  is  youthful  and  his  tender  heart 


FORE  SHADOW  INGS.  79 

Could  take  no  joy  in  that  for  which  another's 
Would  bleed  and  break.     The  king  is  greatly  wise, 
And  needs  not  to  be  taught  how  valueless 
The  shell  without  the  kernel,  or  the  body, 
Though  beautiful  it  were,  without  the  soul. 
Ah,  what  were  name,  sweet  name,  of  bride  or  wife, 
Apart  from  love  to  give  it  truthful  meaning ! 
He  asks  what  he  has  deemed  a  Lebanon  flower 
In  its  fresh,  fragrant  prime  ;   but,  from  its  stem 
Plucked  with  rude  hands,  how  soon  its  bloom  would 

fade, 

Its  beauty  and  its  perfume  steal  away ! 
Such  withered,  worthless  flower  were  Sulamith 
If  severed  from  her  love,  which  is  her  life ; 
Nor  her's  alone, — irrecoverably  pledged 
To  one,  who  could  not  even  for  the  king 
Put  back  the  changeless  gift  within  her  power." 

And  now  the  messengers — who  could  but  see 
How  vain  were  further  parleying — took  their  leave  : 
Then  burst  upon  the  head  of  Sulamith 
The  gathered  storm  her  act  and  words  had  stirred 
Within  the  hot  hearts  of  her  Syrian  brothers, 
Because,  forsooth,  they  feared  that  Solomon, 


80  SULAMITH. 


Provoked  at  her  refusal,  would  withdraw 

The  offices  he  had  conferred  upon  them — 

Far  less,  they  shrewdly  judged,  to  do  them  favor, 

Than,  through  their  help,  to  win  their  beauteous  sister. 

"Oh,  damsel !  rash  and  willful,"  said  the  eldest, 
u  Knowest  thou  what  lightest  doom  may  well  be  thine, 
For  thy  perverseness  ?     Thou  shalt  die  unwed. 
No  husband  call  thee  wife,  no  children  mother. 
Think   not,    the    king   whose    power   thou    mightest 

have  shared, 

Will  suffer  thy  lost  shepherd,  if  e'er  found, — 
Or  subject  of  his  own  or  other  realm, — 
To  seize  the  prize  he  vainly  sought  to  win. 
If  not  the  favored  bride  of  Solomon, 
Then  with  his  servants  shall  thy  station  be. 
Scorning  to  sit  with  him  upon  his  throne, 
The  kitchen  of  his  menials  thou  mayest  rule, 
Or  tend  perchance  his  vines  at  Baal  Hamon." 

Thus   flashed   the   lightning   of   their   kindled 

wrath, 

And  swept  the  tempest  of  their  scorching  words, 
Venting  the  wounded,  keenly  smarting  sense 


FORESHADO WINGS.  81 


Of  masculine  superiority, 

Which  in  the  oriental  bosom  dwells. 

But  little  harmed  was  Sulamith.     Above 

The  windy  storm  her  winged  thoughts  had  flown. 

Her  loyalty  and  love  and  resolution 

Had  wafted  her  stirred  soul  to  heights  serene, 

So  that  the  angry  brothers'  cutting  words 

Had  passed  almost  unheard.     But  when  they  ceased, 

She  felt  the  grateful  silence,  and  withdrew, 

To  find  it  in  her  chamber,  undisturbed. 

Calmness  like  autumn's  mellow,  tranquil  air 
Followed  the  tempest,  which  had  spent  its  rage 
Upon  the  scarcely  heeding  maiden's  head. 
No  repetitions  followed.     In  the  hearts 
Of  the  late  incensed  brothers  soon  there  rose 
Fresh  tides  of  pity  and  of  tenderness, 
As  they  recalled  the  accusing  memory 
Of  their  unkindness  to  their  suffering  sister, — 
Their  insults  added  to  her  deep  distress. 
Their  every  look  and  act  was  a  confession — 
Though  by  their  lips  unspoken — of  the  wrong. 
Her  mother's  love  and  sympathy,  as  balm 
Of  Gilead,  soothed  her  tried  and  wounded  heart ; 

6 


82  SULAMITH. 


And  He  in  whom  she  trusted  evermore 

A  very  present  help  in  trouble  proved. 

And  so  she  went  her  daily  rounds  of  duty, 

In  thoughtfulness,  but  with  such  look  of  peace 

As  only  comes  to  tried  and  trusting  ones, 

Who,  tossed  by  storms  upon  a  heaving  sea, 

Sure  anchorage  have  found. 

Unwonted  tumult 

Had  broken  in  upon  the  home's  long  quiet, 
In  consequence  of  Solomon's  command. 
"The  business  of  the  king  requireth  haste," 
Hence  every  hand  must  give  its  utmost  aid 
In  furtherance  of  needful  preparation 
For  the  departure  of  the  Syrian  brothers, 
To  occupy  the  posts  he  had  assigned  them. 

And  now  the  appointed  day  was  drawing  near 
When  these  first  fledglings  of  the  household  nest 
Should   spread   their   wings   for   flight.      Blent   with 

the  grief 

Of  those  who  loved  them  were  anxieties 
That  o'er  them  swept,  like  shadows  cast  of  clouds, — 
Dread  of  the  king's  displeasure  or  persistence 


FORESHADO  WINGS.  83 


In  what  he  had  declared  his  sovereign  will ; 

To  Sulamith  the  sense  of  mystery, 

That  ever  deeper  grew  concerning  him 

She  called  her  shepherd,  but  of  whom  she  knew 

Only  that  next  to  God  he  was  her  all, 

And,  whether  still  his  place  on  earth  were  found, 

Or  death  had  claimed  him,  that  her  deathless  love 

Forever  a  reality  must  be. 

The  hurried  tasks  completed,   in  due  time, 
A  restful  hour  had  come ;  and  Sulamith,  ? 

After  brief  musing,   tuned  and  touched  her  viol, 
Long  silent ;  and  soft  melodies  and  sweet — 
Wordless  a  while — were  floating  on  the  air. 
Then  came  brief  snatches  of  impromptu  song, 
Half  joyful  and  half  sad,  woven  of  themes 
Through  which  she  lightly  passed  from  gay  to  grave. 
At  last  absorbed  she  seemed  and  as  inspired — 
But  less  with  music's  spell  or  poesy, 
Than  by  the  glowing  purpose  of  her  soul ; 
And,  with  quick  strokes  of  passionate  energy, 
She  swept  the  chords,  and,  in  notes  clear  and  high 
As  song  of  soaring  lark,  her  words  rang  out : 


84  SULAMITH. 


Many  waters  cannot  quench  love  ; 
Floods  to  drown  it  powerless  prove  ; 
All  a  man  hath  for  love  he  may  give, 
Yet  utterly  scorned  and  loveless  live. 

At  sudden  pause  of  the  song's  vehement  flow, 
Before  the  singer's  eyes,   athwart  the  floor, 
A  shadow  fell.     The  heart  of  Sulamith 
Was  for  an  instant  thrilled  with  gladdening  hope, 
That  he,  for  whom  the  yearnings  of  her  soul 
Were  at  full  tide,  perchance  had  come  at  last ! 
But  one  swift  glance  dispelled  the  fond  illusion, 
And  sent  the  surging  blood  to  cheek  and  brow, 
As  now  within  the  door  appeared  a  stranger, 
And  the  confusing  fear  swept  over  her, 
That  he  had  overheard  the  words  she  sang. 
His  courteous  salutation  (into  which 
There  entered  not  a  hint,  through  word  or  look, 
Of  aught  amiss)  brought  back  to  her,  meanwhile, 
Her  scattered  self-possession.     But  severely 
Was  tested  soon  what  she  had  thus  regained, 
When  presently  he  told  her  of  his  errand  ; 
For  he  had  been  deputed  by  the  king 
To  bear  his  royal  greetings  and  his  mandates 


FORESHADOW1NGS.  85 


Unto  the  household  of  Amminadib, 

And,  chiefly,  to  his  well-beloved  daughter. 

His  mission  called  for  special  urgency : 

He  therefore  begged  she  would,  without  delay, — 

Together  with  her  brothers  and  her  mother, — 

Attend  to  the  instructions  which  he  brought 

From  Israel's  king,  the  mighty  Solomon. 

Soon  in  his  presence  all  were  duly  met, 
And   thus,  in  well-weighed  words,   the   king's   com 
mands 

Were  briefly  stated :  All  that,  heretofore, 
Had  been  his  pleasure  for  the  elder  brothers 
Was  re-affirmed ;  and  it  was  still  his  wish — 
Only  intensified  by  her  refusal — 
That  beauteous  Sulamith  should  be  his  bride. 
Yet  would  he  pledge  to  her  his  royal  word, 
That  it  should  only  be  with  her  consent, 
Freely  and  gladly  given,   if  at  all. 
He  asked  and  he  commanded  nothing  more 
Than  her  mere  presence  at  Jerusalem, 
Under  her  honored  mother's  watchful  keeping; 
And  that  for  once  at  least  he  might  behold  her, 
And  she,   if  but  for  one  brief  moment,  him  ; 


86  SULAMITH. 


And,  with  him,   also  look  upon  the  face 

Of  him  whose  love  she  held  above  the  king's; 

Then  freely  make  her  choice,  and  it  should  stand. 

An  escort  and  provisions  for  the  journey 

Were  furnished  by  the  bounty  of  the  king, 

And  now  would  shortly  be  at  their  command. 

As   when   from   shrouded   sky,    through    one 

small  rift, 

The  sunlight  bursts,  with  radiance  that  seems 
Brighter  than  even  when  for  cloudless  days 
His  unquenched  beams  are  shed,  so  Sulamith — 
Who  long  had  walked  upon  a  darkened  path — 
Saw,   in  a  single  hint  of  the  king's  message, 
Its  passing  reference  to  the  one  she  loved, 
That  which  illumined  all  obscurity, 
Scattered  all  doubts,   and  poured  full  floods  of  light 
Upon  her  future,  such  as  never  shone 
E'en  in  the  noontide  of  her  happier  past. 

The  rest,  in  less  degree,  for  varied  reasons, 
Shared  in  her  joy,  and,  even  more  than  she, 
Hailed,  in  the  gracious  message  of  the  king, 
Relief  from  burdening  fears  of  his  displeasure. 


FORESHADO  WINGS.  87 

All  acquiesced  in  its  imperative  summons 

To  Solomon's  presence  of  the  maid  and  mother; 

And  for  the  change  were  due  arrangements  made. 

Agar,  still  strong  and  gentle  as  of  yore, 

Though    nearing    fourscore   years,    should   have    in 

charge 

The  younger  children  in  their  mother's  absence; 
And  in  the  brothers'  stead — soon  to  assume 
The  offices  appointed  by  the  king — 
Her  faithful  son,  well  fitted  for  the  station 
In  rare  capacity  and  diligence, 
Should  take  the  oversight  of  all  beside. 
Ere  rose  the  sun  of  the  succeeding  day, 
The  words  of  peace  were  said ;  and  on  the  road 
That  leads  from  Lebanon  to  Jerusalem, 
The  royal  chariot  which  conveyed  the  twain, 
Under  an  escort  of  twelve  mounted  men, 
Was  speeding  in  the  frosty  morning  air. 


VIII. 
JERUSALEM. 

[CARCE  had  the  sun,  descending,  passed  mid 
way 

Between  its  noontide  altitude  and  setting, 
On  the  fifth  day  since  Sulamith  and  she, 
Who  more  than  ever  to  her  yearning  heart 
Was  all  that  mother  means,  began  their  journey, 
When,  from  a  sudden  turning  in  the  road, 
Jerusalem,  its  longed  for  goal,  uprose 
Before  their  kindling  eyes. 

As  yet  the  city, 

Though  much  enlarged  by  David  through  his  reign 
Of  forty  years,  had  not  outgrown  Mount  Zion. 
Upon  its  brow  his  cedarn  palace  stood  ; 
And,  in  its  rear,  full  many  a  towering  structure 
Of  kindred  style  and  of  coeval  building. 
One  massive  fortress,  in  its  ruggedness, 
Frowned  from  a  rocky  steep  on  all  below  ; 


JERUSALEM.  89 

And,  to  the  westward,  there  might  be  descried 
The  antique  housetops  and  the  moldering  walls 
Which  were  the  last  decaying  links  that  bound 
Jerusalem  to  Jebus,  which  of  old 
Had  place  among  the  cities  that  were  founded 
After  the  flood,  on  the  new-peopled  world  ; — 
A  seat  of  power  to  which  e'en  Abraham 
Did  homage,  paying  to  its  priest  and  king, 
Mystic  Melchizedek,  the  sacred  tithe. 

To  those  who  from  the  chariot  keenly  gazed, 
Continued  scrutiny  brought  marks  of  change  : 
What  seemed  at  first  a  ridge,  uneven,  broken, 
Around  the  city,  soon  they  saw  to  be 
Its  yet  unfinished  wall.     On  Mount  Moriah, 
That  from  the  valley,  narrow,  deep,  flood-worn, 
Uprose  in  front,  a  rugged  precipice, 
Were  excavations  for  the  temple's  site — 
Piled  rocks  and  earth-heaps  and  unsightly  seams, 
That  darkly  gashed  what  once  were  grassy  mounds 
Or  vine-clad  terraces,   or  bright  parterres 
That  in  the  distance  glowed  with  flush  of  flowers. 

But  less  the  many  changes  thus  beheld 


90  SULAMITH. 


Impressed  the  mother's  mind,  than  one  unseen 

Touched,  with  sad  sense  of  loss,  her  grieving  heart ; 

And  also  to  the  eyes  of  Sulamith 

An  instant  gushed  an  overflow  of  tears 

As  memory  brought,  with  startling  vividness, 

Her  father's  form  and  face,  forever  hid 

From  all  the  places  in  Jerusalem 

That  once  had  known  them,  known  them  long  and 

well. 

An  instant  only.     As  on  falling  rain-drops 
The  sun,  emerging  from  the  scattering  clouds, 
Sheds  the  bright  beams  which  make  them  sparkling 

gems, 

Soon  to  evanish  from  the  freshened  air, 
So  speedily  to  this  her  tender  woe 
Came  the  supplanting  rapture  of  her  soul — 
The  blissful  prospect  ready  to  become 
Blissful  reality,  that  he  who  long 
Had  only  been  with  her  in  memory — 
Her  living  love — amid  the  city's  throngs, 
Waited  to  give  her  welcome,  and  would  speak 
Once  more  the  sweet  assurances  for  which 
Her  heart  was  thirsting,  as  the  flower  at  noon-tide, 
That,  drooping,  mutely  pleads  for  rain  or  dew. 


JERUSALEM.  91 


Two  of  the  chariot  guards  on  coursers  fleet, 
Had  forward  sped,  to  give  to  Solomon 
Due  notice  of  the  coming  of  his  guests  ; 
And  even  now  the  thunder  of  his  train 
Broke  on  their  ears,  and  clouds  of  rising  dust, 
Whirled  by  the  wind,  o' er-canopied  the  road, 
And  ever  nearer  drew.     The  youthful  king, — 
Wearing  a  crown  of  gold,  with  precious  stones 
Inwreathed,  and  by  his  mother's  hand  bestowed 
On  the  bright  morning  of  that  gladsome  day, 
Clothed  with  the  vestments  suited  to  his  state, 
With  thirty  warriors  on  either  hand, 
Each  girded  with  a  sword  and  each  renowned 
For  his  exploits  in  battle,  as  his  guardsmen — 
Thus  rode  full  royally,  in  royal  car 
Fashioned  by  Tyrian  artificers  ; 
Its  framework  of  the  polished  wood  of  Lebanon, 
Its  pillars  silver  and  its  seat  of  gold, 
Cushions  of  Syrian  purple  and  its  sides 
With  ebony  inlaid,  its  carpet  woven, 
And  wondrously  embroidered,  by  the  hands 
Of  the  fair  daughters  of  Jerusalem, 
From  love  to  him  they  proudly  owned  their  king.* 

*See  Dr.  Cunningham  Geikie's  Hours  with  the  Bible. 


92  SULAMITH. 

On  swept  the  royal  cavalcade,  until 
The  two  met  in  the  roadway,  face  to  face, 
Then  halted,  side  by  side,  wheel  touching  wheel, 
The  car  of  state  that  bore  king  Solomon, 
The  chariot  of  humbler  workmanship 
In  which  the  mother  and  the  maiden  rode. 

A  dream-like  spell  to  Sulamith  had  come. 
The  pageant  but  a  brilliant  vision  seemed  ; 
Its  forms  and  faces  swam  before  her  eyes 
Confused  and  indistinct  as  are  the  fancies 
Of  fevered  brain.     But,  through  the  wildering  maze, 
One  steadfast  thought  and  purpose  gave  a  measure 
Of  reasonable  quest  to  her  swift  glance, 
That  only — in  the  sigdit  of  crown  and  splendor — 
A  kingly  presence  noted ;  then  o'er  all 
Made  bootless  search  for   him  compared  with  whom 
The  mightiest  of  kings  was  nothing  now, 
And  who,  she  fondly  hoped,  had  been  the  first 
To  give  the  tender  welcome  on  whose  foretaste 
Her  soul,  else  weak  and  sad,  had  sweetly  fed. 
Then,  in  the  sinking  of  her  baffled  hope, 
As  sinks  in  cloudy  depths  the  only  star 
That  for  a  little  space  saves  earth  and  sky 


JERUSALEM.  93 


From  all -devouring  gloom, — upon  her  ear, 
In  thrilling  closeness,  with  the  very  breath 
Of  its  sweet  utterance  warm  upon  her  cheek, 
Fell  once  again  what  seemed  the  voice  of  him 
Who  by  the  fountain  side  had  called  her  name, 
And  in  the  low,  deep  music  of  his  tones 
Had  shrined  it  sacredly  and  evermore. 

1 '  Oh,  God  of  Israel ! ' '  she  would  have  said, 
But  that  her  lips  were  tremulous  and  failed 
To  frame  the  rising  fear  that  sought  expression — 
"Oh,  God  of  Israel!"  she  wildly  thought, 
"Has  this  weak  heart  so  lost  its  hold  on  Thee, 
So  willfully  allowed  its  poor,  vain  longings 
To  fill  and  sway  it,  of  Thy  will  forgetful, 
That  I  at  last  in  righteousness  am  left 
To  fond  delusions,  mocking  fantasies, 
And  dreams  of  madness,  deemed  realities?" 

Great  Solomon,  the  king  himself,  it  was, 
Who  from  his  car  had  leaned  and  gently  spoken 
The  name  of  Sulamith,  to  her  who  heard 
As  though  she  heard  not.     Reason  had  not  fled ; 
It  was  no  vain  illusion  ;  not  alone 


94  SULAMITH. 

The  Shepherd's  voice  ; — in  that,  in  all,  the  shepherd  i 

Who  though  of  princely  station  yet  had  worn 

The  garments  which  pertain  to  those  whose  rank 

In  life  is  lowly  ;  and  on  Lebanon, 

With  such  had  sought  and  found  companionship  ; 

Humbling  himself  that  he  might  be  exalted, 

And  dowered  with  wisdom's  more  than  golden  gains  ; 

And  that,  apart  from  all  the  trammeling  ways 

Of  royalty,  in  nature's  chosen  haunts, 

Her  calm  retreats,  her  silent  solitudes, 

She  might  the  more  to  him  reveal  her  beauty, 

And  to  his  searching  eye  make  deep  disclosure 

Of  all  the  marvelous  mystery  of  her  life. 

Backward    he    waved    the    guardsmen,    quite 

beyond 

The  hearing  of  his  voice,  and  where  their  eyes 
Might  illy  serve  their  curiosity  ; 
And  from  their  charge  dismissed  the  charioteers ; — 
No  movement  fearing  of  the  well-trained  steeds, 
Until  the  reins  again  were  in  their  hands  ; — 
And  then  with  warmly  pleading  tones  he  cried, 
"Look,  Sulamith,  upon  thy  king,  who  might 
Speak  with  authority  and  by  his  power  * 


JERUSALEM.  95 


Enforce  obedience  to  his  sovereign  will ; 

But  who  in  humble  suppliance  begs  the  boon 

On  which  his  happiness,  his  very  life, 

Or  all  that  makes  it  worthy  of  the  name, 

Depends.     He  lays  his  sceptre  at  thy  feet, 

And  prays  that  thou  wilt  reign  his  bosom's  queen. 

Or  dost  thou  still  to  thy  first  purpose  cleave, 

To  be  the  shepherd's  bride?     Then  have  thy  choice. 

Thy  chosen  waits  to  hear  from  thy  sweet  lips     • 

Its  final  confirmation." 

Then  the  king 

Took  off  his  crown  and  laid  his  robe  aside, 
His  outer  robe  with  many  a  gem  adorned, 
Laced  and  embroidered  with  a  wealth  of  gold ; 
And  lo,  before  the  eyes  of  Sulamith, 
In  which  the  happy  tears  were  glistening, 
He  stood  in  shepherd's  guise,  as  when  he  wooed 
And  won  her  deathless  love  on  Lebanon  ! 

Her  lips  in  vain  essayed  to  make  reply  ; 
But  in  the  mantling  glow  upon  her  face, 
Suffusing  all  its  pallor,  as  the  rose 
Of  sunrise  all  the  dimness  of  the  dawn  ; 


96  SULAMITH. 


And  in  the  tender  light  that  shone  through  tears, 
Which  on  the  long,  dark  fringes  of  her  eyes 
Gathered,  like  drops  of  morning  dew  on  flowers, 
He  read  the  voiceless  answer  of  her  soul. 

Something  beside  her  glad  affirmative 
His  searching  eye  discerned.     He  also  saw 
That  mingling  with  the  brightness  of  her  joy 
And  deepening  beneath  his  ardent  gaze, 
Were  shadows  of  misgiving,  and  of  doubt 
Lest  he  she  most  had  honored  were  not  true ; 
Since  he  had  come  to  her  with  garb  and  name 
That  now  she  could  but  fear  had  falsified 
His  real  selfhood  and  his  princely  state. 

Hence  Solomon,  who  felt  the  subtle  change 
That  o'er  her  face  had  swept — as  o'er  the  fields 
The  sunlight's  faint  obscuring  which  is  wrought, 
By  slightest  film  of  cloud,  scarce  palpably, — 
As  though  his  quickened  sense  divined  its  meaning, 
Spoke  of  his  late  sojourn  amid  the  wilds 
Of  Lebanon,  and  told  how  he,  who  thought 
An  elder  brother  would  ascend  the  throne 
Upon  his  father's  death,  had  sought  for  wisdom, 


JERUSALEM.  97 


More  than  for  beaten  gold  or  priceless  rubies ; 
And  how  in  its  pursuit  he  left  the  court 
And  dwelt  in  distant  parts  with  common  men, 
As  one  with  them,  that  so  he  might  the  better 
Learn  of  their  ways  and  gain  the  useful  lore 
So  often  hidden  from  the  proud  and  great ; 
And  thus  had  chanced  to  come  to  Baal  Hamon ; 
To  all  unknown,  save  to  his  faithful  servant, 
Who  would  have  kept  his  secret  unto  death ; 
And  how,  in  search  of  wisdom  he  had  found 
More  than  he  sought,  fair  wisdom's  fairer  rival — 
Found  Sulamith,  as  wise  as  she  is  fair ; 
And  learned  that  earth  has  nothing  to  compare 
With  the  true  heart  that  in  her  bosom  dwells, 
Or  with  the  love  that  dwells  in  her  true  heart. 
Far  from  him  was  the  thought  that  his  deception 
Should  do  herself  or  others  aught  of  wrong. 
Nor  had  he  falsely  spoken  when  he  claimed 
Another  name  than  that  of  Solomon  ; 
For  that  he  claimed  was  also  his,  its  tenure 
As  sacred  as  the  office  of  the  prophet, 
Nathan  his  partial  friend,  who  had  conferred  it. 

While  yet  with  kindling  eloquence  he  urged 

7 


SULAMITH. 


His  vindication,  from  the  candid  eyes, 

In  which  he  saw  his  truth  and  honor  dimmed, 

Beamed  full  acquittal  ;   and  the  thought  of  blame, 

That  on  the  face  of  Sulamith  had  quenched 

Something  of  welcoming  brightness,  swiftly  changed 

Into  a  yearning  sense  of  self-reproach, 

Whence  flowed  afresh  the  streams  of  tenderness, 

For  healing  of  the  hurt  which  she  had  done. 

Over  the  scene  which  thereupon  ensued, 
While  passed  a  little  space  of  swift-winged  time, 
Oblivion's  veil  impervious  is  spread. 

Then  Solomon  his  coronet  resumed 
And  robe  of  royalty.     Adown  the  slope 
Of  Olivet  the  chariots,  side  by  side, — 
The  warrior  guardsmen  in  the  front  and  rear, — 
Sped  swiftly  toward  the  wide-swung  city  gate, 
Whence  issued  forth  a  bright-robed  multitude, 
A  welcoming  throng  of  Zion's  stately  maids, 
The  dark-eyed  daughters  of  Jerusalem, 
And  thus  with  song  the  stayed  procession  hailed  : 


JERUSALEM.  99 


CHORUS. 

Who  is  he  that  cometh,   in  royal  robes  majestic, 
And  crowned  with  the  crown  wherewith  his  mother 

crowned  him, 
For  the   day  of  his   espousals,  and   the   gladness   of 

his  heart  ? 

Who  is  he  with  chariot  among  the  olives  gleaming ; 
Above  him  floating  cloudlike  dense  odors  on  the  air, 
Of  gums   and   spices   priceless,  of  frankincense   and 
myrrh  ? 

Who  is  she  that  looketh  forth  as  the  dewy  morn 
ing  ; 

Fair  as  silvery  moon,  in  its  pathway  through  the 
sky  ; 

In  her  beauty  beaming,  as  the  sun  at  noonday  ; 

Over  all  victorious,  like  a  bannered  host  ? 


Awake  !   awake  !   oh,  wind  of  the  north  ; 

Come,  south  wind,  over  the  garden  blow, 
Until  from  its  flowers  and  spices  forth 

Its  perfumes  far  abroad  shall  flow  ; 
And  my  beloved  one  shall  know, 
By  the  odorous  air 
They  have  laden,  where 
The  fruits  that  wait  for  his  coming  grow. 


o  n&e. 


I  am  come  to  the  garden,  sister-bride  ; 
I  have  gathered  its  fragrant  spicery. 
The  feasts  its  luscious  fruits  provide, 

With  honey  and  wine  of  love,   I  see 
Spread  in  the  garden  shades  for  me, 
'Mid  clustering  flowers, 
'Neath  rose-roofed  bowers, — 
Spread,  oh,  my  soul's  delight,  by  thee  ! 


IX. 
HALCYON  DAYS. 

JT  last  the  day  of  days  for  Sulamith 

Had  faded  into  evening's  grateful  shade, 
That   cooled    her   fevered    brow    and   round 
her  drew 

Its  curtaining  of  silence  and  repose. 
The  king,  in  thoughtful  kindness  to  his  guests, 
The  mother  and  the  maiden,  overtasked 
With  days  of  journeying  and  exhausting  strain 
Of  ceaseless  cares,  alternate  hopes  and  fears, 
And  final  flood  of  overwhelming  joy, 
Had  left  them  early  to  the  solitude, 
The  luxury  of  comfort  and  of  rest 
And  guarded  stillness  of  the  spacious  room — 
Joint  room  and  chamber — for  their  use  assigned, 
And  in  their  honor  furnished  royally. 

The  level  rays  of  the  uprisen  sun 

Threw  wakening  splendors  on  the  chamber  walls  ; 

101 


102  SULAMITH. 

And  Sulamith  from  deep  and  dreamless  sleep 

Emerged,  with  bounding  life.     The  happy  thought 

That  lingered  latest  in  her  consciousness, 

Ere  it  had  sunk  'neath  slumber's  lulling  wave, 

Was  first  to  greet  its  swiftly  brightening  dawn  : 

He  who  in  shepherd  guise  had  won  her  love, 

To  whom  her  fond  and  faithful  heart  had  clung 

Through  dreary  absence,  deepening  mystery, 

And  lures  or  threatenings  that  might  have  swerved 

A  will  of  less  than  swerveless  constancy — 

He  from  whom  long  her  path  had  stretched  apart, 

Amid  the  shadows  of  uncertainty, 

Had  smiled  upon  her  from  their  thickening  gloom, 

Had  spoken  in  her  ears  again  the  words 

That  in  her  heart  had  glowed,  while  all  without 

Was  dark  and  cold  ! 

And  yet  her  bliss  supreme — 
As  all  earth's  bliss — was  not  without  alloy. 
For  rapturous  moments,  while  aside  were  cast 
The  symbols  of  his  majesty,  her  heart 
Was  almost  satisfied,  and  still  he  seemed 
What  he  had  ever  been  amid  the  haunts, 
The  orchards  and  the  vines  of  Lebanon. 


HALCYON   DAYS.  103 

But  when  again  she  saw  him  robed  and  crowned, 
In  all  the  grandeur  of  his  royal  state, 
The  vision  that  had  burst  upon  her  gloom 
And  seemed  the  full  fruition  of  her  hope, 
Had  faded,   as  a  happy  dream  of  night 
Before  the  dull  reality  of  day. 

But  though  the  brimming  cup  of  happiness 
Had  somewhat  lost  of  effervescent  gleam, 
Still  was  it  passing  sweet  and  still  undrained ; 
And  when — before  the  flush  of  rosy  morn 
Had  wholly  left  the  mountains  and  the  sky, — 
He  to  whom  all  the  currents  of  her  soul 
Were  setting,  as  the  rivers  to  the  sea, 
Stood  in  her  presence,  called  her  by  her  name, 
In  tones  that  made  each  syllable  replete 
With  tenderest  meaning,  then  her  ebbing  joy, 
In  full  flood-tide,  swelled  to  its  overflow. 

"My  soul's  beloved!  peerless  Sulamith!" — 
Such  was  the  salutation  of  the  king — 
' '  The  freshened  glow  upon  thy  late  pale  cheeks, 
The  light  that  kindles  in  thy  dove-like  eyes, 
Assurance  give  that  night  for  thee  hath  wrought 


104  SULAMITH. 


Full  reparation  for  the  weariness 

And  waste  of  past  exhausting,  care- fraught  days ; 

And  from  the  sweetness  of  thy  welcoming  smile, 

That  on  me  once  again  unclouded  beams, 

My  thrilled  heart  draws  the  gladdening  confidence, 

That  if  thy  faithful  love  hath  also  slept, 

It  too  hath  found  replenishment  in  sleep." 

"Know  thou  that  when  I  met  thee,  y ester  eve, 
It  was  to  claim  thy  pledge,  fulfill  my  own, 
And  crown  the  day  for  which  my  soul  had  longed 
With  glad  espousal  rites,   that  would  have  made 
Thee,  best  beloved,  my  bride.     But  when  my  eyes 
At  last  beheld  thee,   dearer  than  their  light, 
With  something  in  thy  looks  before  unseen, 
A  nameless  charm  which,  more  than  beauty's  bloom, 
Drew  all  my  soul  to  thee,  then  did  I  note, 
With  tenderness  new-born,   that  like  a  lily 
Which  droops  upon  its  stem  in  noonday  heat, 
Or  scorching  winds  that  from  the  desert  blow, 
So  was  it,   love,  with  thee.      On  thy  pale  face, 
One  moment  bright  with  unexpected  joy, 
Deepened  a  shade  of  pained  perplexity  ; 
And  all  its  wistfulness  did  plead  with  me 


HALCYON   DAYS.  105 

Against  the  eager  impulse  of  my  heart ; 

But  now  thy  face  is  shadowless,  thy  smile 

Unclouded  as  the  sky  of  this  clear  morn  ; 

Hence  needless  pity  dies ;   my  love  is  all ; 

And  patience,  that  postponed  the  hour  of  bliss, 

In  kindness  yesterday — the  reason  gone, 

The  morrow  come — now  pleads  for  its  reward." 

Then  Sulamith,  with  more  than  health's  warm 

glow 
Upon  her  face  and  bosom,  made  reply  : 

"What  thanks  to  thee  I  owe,  that  thou,  beloved, 
Did'st  with  my  woman's  weakness  nobly  bear, 
Making  thy  strength  its  refuge,  when  my  own 
Availed  not,  in  the  tumult  of  surprise 
And  joy  that  blent  with  my  unbidden  fears. 
Oh,  well  thou  knew'st  the  truth  my  trembling  lips 
So  vainly  sought  to  speak;  nor  could' st  thou  doubt 
The  love  that  words  were  powerless  to  express. 
And  rightly  now  thou  readest  on  my  face 
The  bliss  that  brings  oblivion  to  pain, 
Once  more  to  see  thee,  hear  thy  voice  and   know — 
Though  that  were  all — that  thou  thyself  art  near. 
Yet,   for  thy  sake  and  mine,   I  needs  must  ask 


106  SULAMITH. 


Thy  further  patient  trust.     For  thou  art  not 

The  shepherd  only,  he  to  whom  my  love 

As  such  was  fully,  confidently  given, 

With  whom  I  thought  to  journey  side  by  side, 

Equals  in  rank,  congenial  in  aims, 

In  all  things  mated,  on  familiar  paths. 

"Would  God  thou  wert  but  he  to  whom  my 

pledge, 

As  life  irrevocable,  has  been  given ! 
Then  at  thy  lightest  word,  without  delay, 
Should  its  fulfillment  be.     It  binds  me  still, 
And  shall  forever ; — dear  and  blessed  bond  ! 
Freedom  from  which  would  only  bring  me  woe. 
But,  oh,  beloved,   thou  art  Israel's  king; 
The  world  has  not  a  loftier  throne  than  thine. 
No  wings,  as  yet,  have  I  wherewith  to  reach 
The  dizzy,  shining  height  where  thou  hast  flown, 
But  wings  of  love,   and  they  are  all  untaught 
The  art  of  such  high  soaring.     Blameless  so, 
Thou  needs  must  own,  for  they  were  trained  by  thee, 
And  only  from  thy  teaching,  further  given, 
Can  ever  venture  the  ambitious  flight 
Thy  wishes  urge.     Forgive  me,   if  I  seem 


HALCYON   DAYS.  107 


To  answer  lightly.     All  my  heart  responds, 
And  all  its  loyalty  pays  reverent  heed. 
But  for  a  shepherd' s  bride  have  I  been  schooled ; 
To  this  my  wishes  and  my  hopes  have  led  ; 
And  when,  instead,  there  opens  to  my  view, 
All  unprepared — as  if  to  twilight  shade 
At  once  should  come  the  dazzling  light  of  noon — 
A  place  beside  the  greatest  of  earth's  kings, 
Where  I  must  match  the  glory  of  his  state, 
Must  feel  and  do  and  be  what  it  requires, 
Wielding  the  influence  that  touches  springs 
Which  may  unlock,  for  realms  and  multitudes 
And  countless  generations  that  shall  be, 
The  treasury  of  blessings,  or  set  free 
Imprisoned  woes  and  curses — wonder  not 
To  mark  the  shrinking  of  my  untried  heart, 
Or  that,  for  more  and  higher  than  the  sake 
Of  love  or  joy,  whether  of  mine  or  thine, 
I  beg  a  little  space  in  which  my  soul, 
Bewildered  by  the  suddenness  and  greatness 
Of  such  a  change,    may  seek  its  wonted  peace, 
And  that  with  aid  thou  givest  I  may  find 
The  wisdom,  strength  and  meetness  that  I  need 
To  do  thy  bidding  and  be  wholly  thine." 


108  SULAMITH. 


Thus  far  spake  Sulamith,  and  then,  abashed 
And  beautiful  in  virgin  modesty, 
At  sudden  consciousness  that  to  her  came 
Of  all  the  tender  meaning  of  her  words, 
She  turned  away,  and  on  her  mother's  breast 
Sought  sweet  concealment  for  her  crimsoned  face 
And  starting  tears  which  flowed,  she  knew  not  why. 

A  moment  paused  the  king,   a  moment  sped 
A  cloud  of  disappointment  o'er  his  face. 
One  more, — while  silent  still, — his  knitted  brow 
And  compressed  lip  told  of  the  strife  within, 
Between  his  baffled  will  and  pitying  love  ; 
And  then  swift  triumph  hung  its  banners  out 
In  softened  light  that  kindled  in  his  eyes 
Through  half-shed  tears,  and  in  the  unshadowed  smile 
That  o'er  his  features  like  a  sun-burst  swept, 
As  by  the  side  of  Sulamith  he  bent, 
And,  while  his  hand  caressed  her  flowing  hair, 
Made  gentle,  generous  answer  to  her  plea. 

"  Fairest  of  women  ! — art  thou  wise  as  fair? — 
Well  might  I  question  thy  shrewd  argument, 
And  by  its  consequence,  itself  disprove : 


HALCYON   DAYS.  109 

For  lo,  it  brings  the  king,  with  whom  to  mate 
Thou  fearest,  a  suppliant  to  thy  feet, 
By  thee  enthralled  through  more  than  kingly  power. 
Thy   wings — thou    claimest — can    make    no   upward 

flight ; 

But,  plumed  with  noble  thoughts,  they  bear  thee  now 
Immeasurably  above  the  common  range 
Of  kingly  exaltation  ;  and  thy  sense 
Of  duty  and  of  fitness  which  pertain 
To  royal  station,  show  thee  best  endowed 
With  qualities  that  honor  its  possession. 
But  think  not  he,    who  loves  thee  as  his  soul, 
Would  press  compliance  with  his  fondest  hope, 
Against  thy  wishes  or  despite  thy  fears. 
Enough  that  thou  art   mine,  that  thou  art  here, 
That  often  in  thy  presence,  in  thy  smiles, 
Refuge  and  solace  I  may  sweetly  find 
When  wearied  with  the  labors  and  the  cares 
That  burden,  or  that  vex  the  hearts  of  kings. 
And  rich  the  compensation  for  all  loss 
In  brief  deferring  of  expected  bliss, 
To  be  the  trainer  of  my  Lebanon  Dove, 
The  happy  teacher  of  these  folded  wings, 
That,  pliant  to  such  loving  tutorship, 


110  SULAMITH. 


Shall  soon  acquire  the  cunning  and  the  strength 
To  waft  their  owner  up  to  Israel's  throne — 
The  nestling  of  his  heart  who  sits  thereon. 

"Oh,  honored  mother  of  my  plighted  bride, 
Witness  her  new-made  promise  to   be  mine  ; 
And  that  my  sacred,  royal  word  is  given, 
That  only  she  shall  name  the  gladsome  hour 
When  these  betrothal  vows  shall  be  fulfilled. 
But  even  now  the  audience  hall  is  thronged 
With  multitudes  who  for  my  judgment  wait. 
Thanks,  for  this  morning  draught  of  blessedness 
That  yields  refreshment  for  a  toilsome  day. 
Jehovah  watch  between  us  while  apart  ! 
The  strength  of  Israel  your  keeper  be!" 

Whether  in  mountain  wilds  or  palaces, 
Love  works  enchantment  for  its  subject  hearts, 
All  sounds  attunes  to  their  deep  harmonies, 
Over  ail  scenes  and  objects  brightly  spreads 
The  beautiful  illusion  of  their  joy. 
To  Sulamith  the  peaceful  nights  were  fraught 
With  rapturous  dreams,  and  all  the  autumn  days 
Were  golden,  or  so  seemed,  if  skies  were  clear, 


HALCYON   DAYS.  Ill 

Or  clouds  inwrapt  the  pathway  of  the  sun. 

Yet  lingered  with  her  long,  perplexing  sense 

Of  strange  environments,  as  though,  awaking, 

She  gazed  upon  another  world  than  that 

On  which  her  eyes  had  closed,  when  sealed  for  sleep. 

A  world  of  teeming  life  it  proved,  and  all 
In  contrast  with  her  past  experience. 
The  palace  halls,  the  chambers,  and  the  court 
Where   fountains   played,   where   still   the   turf    was 

green, 

And  still  the  lingering  flowers  of  autumn  bloomed, — 
Were  often  vocal  with  the  blended  sounds 
Of  pipe  and  timbrel,  harp  and  psaltery, 
And  songs  of  worshipers  or  banqueters, 
And  peals  of  silvery  laughter,  musical 
As  notes  of  birds  that  hail  the  birth  of  spring. 

Through  latticed  windows  of  the  palace  looked — 
As  pictures  framed,  transcendent  ornaments 
To  deck  the  palace  walls — full  many  a  face 
Of  virgin  youthfulness  and  beauty's  bloom  ; 
And  every  sunny  day,  on  the  wide  lawn 
Or  branching  walks,  were  groups  of  merry  girls, 


112  SULAMITH. 


Some  palace  denizens,  and  other  some 

The  bright-robed  maidens  of  Jerusalem. 

And  there  were  days  when  Sulamith  herself 

Appeared  among  them,  stateliest  of  all  ; 

Then,  as  they  nocked  around  her  with  their  songs 

And  gay  refrains  of  welcome  and  of  praise, 

To  which  with  winsome  grace  she  made  reply 

That  ever  aptly  matched  their  sportiveness, 

They  seemed,  with  her  compared,  as  clustering  flowers 

Gathered  from  fields  and  woods,  indigenous, 

And  she  the  regal  plant,  exotic  rare, 

That  filled  the  central  space  with  crowning  bloom. 

When    Sulamith    had    joined    the    groups    of 

maidens, 

Then  oft,  by  opportune  coincidence, 
It  chanced  that  Solomon,  awhile  released 
From  grave  affairs  pertaining  to  the  realm, 
Would  watch,  from  overhanging  battlement, 
The  joyous  spectacle,  and  feast  his  ears 
On  the  incessant  babel  of  sweet  sounds 
That  made  monopoly  of  all  the  air. 
And  ever  at  such  times  he  put  away 
Magnificence  of  oriental  state. 


HALCYON  DAYS.  113 


Scarce  aught  beside  his  native  majesty 
Proclaimed  him  king.     His  youthful  sympathy 
With  youthful  mirth,  inscribed  upon  his  face, 
Was  known  and  read  of  all.     Over  the  forms, 
Of  varied  charms,  that  thronged  the  space  below 
His  eye  would  sometimes  sweep  half  carelessly, 
Yet  at  its  glance  responsive  faces  brightened 
And  tunefuJ  voices,  in  full  chorus,  rang 
With  glowing  praise  of  his  benignity. 
But  when,  not  long  delayed,  his  searching  look 
Encountered  her,  who  like  the  stately  palm 
Or  citron  in  the  midst  of  other  trees 
So  in  the  midst  of  her  companions  stood, 
His  gaze  was  lingering,  and  between  the  two 
Flashed  messages  that  needed  not  poor  words 
For  their  interpretation. 

Festal  days 

Had  ample  space  in  Israel's  calendar. 
At  their  recurrence  oft  the  banquet  hall 
By  night  resplendent  shone  with  floods  of  light ; 
And  all  the  air  was  heavy  with  perfume 
And  vibrant  with  the  waves  of  melody  ; 
While  graceful  virgins,  with  white  arms  upflung 

8 


114  SULAMITH. 


And  rythmic  flight  of  lightly  sandaled  feet, 
Threaded  the  circling  mazes  of  the  dance. 
And  from  the  gathered  nobles  of  the  land — 
Joined  also  by  the  king — the  hall  would  ring 
With  loud  and  long  applause.     But  Sulamith 
Looked  only  once  upon  the  brilliant  scene, 
Then  turned  away,  with  sadness  and  with  shame, 
And  sense  of  outrage  done  to  womanhood, 
By  profanation  of  her  sacred  charms. 

So  time  sped  on  and  scarce  its  flying  wings, 
E'en  for  brief  moments,  drooped  with  doubt  or  care ; 
Love  swept  with  tireless  hand  a  harp  of  gold, 
And  made  each  resonant  chord  to  tell  of  joy. 
Nor  were  the  tuneful  lips  of  Sulamith 
Unused  to  give  meet  utterance  to  her  thoughts 
And  feelings,  that,  as  streams  from  limpid  springs, 
Flowed  forth  in  simple  melodies  like  these  : 

SONG. 

I  sing  for  joy  that  I  am  his  and  he  mine,  only  mine  ; 
I  quaff  from  ever  brimming  cup  deep   draughts   of 
love's  sweet  wine. 


HALCYON  DAYS.  115 


His   footfall,    that   I   know   so   well,   with   bounding 

heart  I  hear ; 
And  the  odor-laden  breezes  are  whispering,   ' '  He  is 

near  ! ' ' 

The  music  of  his  name,  that  floats  upon  the  con 
scious  air, 

Is  as  the  perfume  that  exhales  from  outpoured  oint 
ments  rare. 

Oh,  why,  thou  best  and  noblest,  why  should  it  with 

wonder  move  thee, 
That,   for   thy  matchless   loveliness,    the   virgins   all 

do  love  thee? 

Let  but  fall  the  smile  that  wins  them,  with  a  tender 

light  on  me, 
And   these   feet,  love-winged,  shall   bear   me   like  a 

flashing  ray  to  thee. 

Oh,  thou  kingliest  one,  thy  throne  is  upreared  within 

my  heart ; 
And  in  thy  palace  chambers,  thou  makest  me  dwell 

apart. 


116  SULAMITH. 


There,   in  overflowing   gladness,    I  join   my  tuneful 

voice 

With    the  maidens  my   companions,    who    in   outer 

courts  rejoice. 

Together  ring  our  choral  songs  with  joy  no  reveler 
knows, 

E'en  when  at  royal  banquetings  choice  wine  un 
stinted  flows  ; 

For   why,    oh,    why   with    jealous    pain   should    the 

assurance  move  me, 
That,    for  thy  peerless   loveliness,    they  also   rightly 

love  thee? 


X. 

QUESTIONINGS. 

| LAS,  for  love's  illusions  when,  too  soon, 
Confronted  with  life's  stern  realities ! — 
Like  bubbles,  beautiful  with  rainbow  hues, 
That  float  resplendent  in  the  summer  air, 
Then  touch  some  solid  thing  and  are  no  more. 

The  clouds  had  gathered  and  the  chilling  winds 
Had  turned  the  driven  rain  to  gleaming  sleet, 
When  came  to  Sulamith  faint  whisperings 
That  in  brief  time  to  noisy  rumors  swelled, 
And  waked  a  tempest  in  the  maiden's  breast, 
Compared  with  which  the  wintry  blasts  were  balm. 

The  fierce,  hereditary  foe  of  Israel, 
Ammon  that  on  her  eastern  border  lay, 
Byjoab's  army,  in  King  David's  reign, 
Conquered  and  crushed,  and  tributary  now, 

117 


118  SULAMITH. 


But  turbulent  and  ever  on  the  watch 
To  break  the  hated  vassalage  and  take 
Bloody  revenge  for  Joab's  cruelties — 
The  rumor  said — was  to  be  pacified, 
And  the  two  nations  into  concord  drawn, 
Through  marriage  of  Solomon  with  *  Naamah, 
Daughter  of  Ammon's  king,  a  princess  famed 
For  loveliness  that  well  befit  her  name. 
So  had  the  councilors  of  Solomon 
Unanimously  urged,  and  his  consent — 
It  was  affirmed — reluctantly  been  given. 
To  Rabbah,  Ammon's  rock-built  capital, 
Princely  embassadors  were  on  their  way, 
Charged  with  the  king's  commission,  to  conclude 
The  marriage  treaty  and  convey  the  bride 
Unto  Jerusalem,  in  royal  state. 

An  hour  had  come  to  storm-tossed  Sulamith, 
In  which  her  anchorage  had  given  way, 
And  left  her  drifting  on  a  swollen  tide 
Of  unquelled  doubts  and  agonizing  fears. 


*  Loveliness. 


QUESTIONINGS.  119 

No  trace  of  all  the  trouble  of  her  heart, 
Till  then,   had  met  the  king's  observant  eye ; 
But  now,   as  unannounced  and  suddenly, 
Her  room  he  entered,   on  her  face  beheld 
The  flowing  tears,  the  pallor  and  the  pain 
Wherewith  her  inward  woe  was  written  there, 
At  once  flashed  on  his  mind,  disturbingly, 
Suggestion  of  the  cause  of  her  distress. 

"My  love,  my  soul' s  delight,  what  aileth  thee ? ' ' 
He  asked,   in  tones  full  fraught  with  tenderness ; 
And  waiting  not  reply,  himself  spoke  on : 

"I  would  that  I  had  sooner  sought  to  shield 
My  trembling  dove  from  the  envenomed  tongues 
That  now   I  see  have  poisoned  all  her  peace, 
With  false  surmise  of  what  has  been  decreed 
Touching  the  kingdom  and  the  hate  of  Ammon. 
Hear  from  my  lips  the  truth  and  dry  thy  tears : 
The  wise  and  mighty  men  my  royal  sire 
Gathered  around  him  and  transferred  to  me, 
To  be  the  bulwarks  of  my  throne,  and  aid 
My  yet  unripened  judgment,  sorely  taxed 
With  ever  pressing  questions  on  which  hang 


120  SULAMITH. 


The  nation's  weal  or  woe,   with  one  accord 

Have  given  counsel,  that  firm   amity 

Be  sought  with  Ammon's  king,  through  my  alliance 

With  Naamah  his  daughter ;  and  to  this — 

The  policy  of  which  I  question  not — 

Against  my  wish,    I  yield.     But  think  not,  thou 

To  whom  are  pledged  my  love,  my  life,  my  all, 

That  I  have  grown  forgetful  of  my  vow 

To  be  thine,  only  thine.     State  marriages 

To  me  are  nothing  more — the  form,  the  name, 

The  realm's  advantage  or  security ; 

The  royal  prestige,  pomp  and  pageantry ; 

To  gild  with  richer  splendor  Israel's  throne ; 

To  match  its  growing  power,  its  widening  fame 

Among  surrounding  nations,   over  which 

It   needs  must  tower,   in  this  and  all  things  else, 

Till  in  its  brightening  glory  theirs  is  dim. — 

Let  it  not  startle  thee,  oh   Sulamith, 

To  know  that  even  ere  my  father  died, 

Through  all  the  tribes  of  Israel  and  all 

The  tributary  nations,  messengers 

Had  sought  for  damsels   dowered  with  beauty  rare, 

That,  even  as  the  fairest  flowers  are  culled 

From  all  the  fields  or  gardens,  they  might  grace, 


QUESTIONINGS.  121 

With  brighter  bloom,  the  palace  of  his  son — 

His  wives  and  concubines,  with  trains  of  virgins 

Innumerous,  their  state  to  magnify. 

But  just  as  these  were  gathered,  for  like  ends 

The  seas  with  nets  are  swept,  the  fields  and  woods 

Laid   under  tribute  for  their  fruit  and  game, 

Their  beasts  of  pasturage  and  fatted  fowl ; 

And  all,  forsooth,  to  lade  the  royal  board 

With  boundless  plenty  and  variety. 

Abundance  fitly  goes  with  kingly  state  ; 

But  kingly  wisdom,  kingly  self-restraint 

Appropriate  no  more  than  well  may  serve 

The  simple,  wholesome,  common  wants  of  man. 

These  virgins,  all  these  wives  and  concubines — 

Such  only  in  the  empty  names  they  bear — 

Are  royal  superfluities,  or  are 

Mere  palace-ornaments — the  chapiters 

That  crown  its  pillars,  knops  and  pomegranates, 

The  golden  pendants  and  the  wreathen  work, — 

That  might  not  be,  or  might  be  torn  away, 

Yet  wholly  leave  the  sheltering  home  within, 

Untouched  in  aught  of  comfort  or  of  cheer. 

They  are  the  fringes  on  my  outer  robe ; 

But  thou  the  silken  garment  that  enfolds 


122  SULAMITH. 


My  form  with  clinging  closeness,  and  is  stirred 
With  every  throbbing  of  my  love-thrilled  heart. 
To  them,  the  many,  it  is  mine  to  give 
All  thoughtful  kindness,  such  as  may  insure 
Their  due  contentment,  health  and  happiness ; 
But  oh,  my  treasured  one,  the  one  alone, 
Choice  one  of  her  that  bare  thee,  solely  mine 
Of  all  art  thou,  and  such  shalt  ever  be." 

With  a  new  dawn  of  gladness  in  her  eyes, 
Its  chastened  light  still  struggling  through  her  tears, 
Thus  Sulamith  replied  : 

"Thy  words,  oh,  king! — 
Whom  I  must  honor  even  as  I  love, 
And  whom  to  doubt  were  wretchedness  untold, — 
Thy  words  of  reassurance,  strong  as  sweet, 
Dispel  my  fears  and  wholly  fortify 
My  shaken  trust,  and  yet  they  give  me  pain. 
In  every  one  of  these  of  whom  thou  speakest, 
These  ornaments  of  palaces  and  thrones, 
There  dwells  a  woman's  heart,  such  heart  as  mine, 
That  more  than  for  the  dainties  of  thy  board 
Or  wines  that  for  thy  royal  banquets  flow, 


QUESTIONINGS.  123 

Hungers  and  thirsts  for  love.     But  only  names, 
Bare  names,  poor  names,  as  empty  as  the  wind, 
Devoid  of  all  their  tender  sacred  meaning, 
Shall  meet  the  life-long  restlessness  and  pain 
Of  nature's  strongest  craving  in  these  hearts. 
Oh,  in  the  fulness  of  this  blessedness 
Which  thou  hast  promised  shall  be  mine  alone, 
Can  I  forget  the  hollow,  pining  hearts, 
Which  may  not  even  feed  upon  the  crumbs 
That  from  the  abundance  of  my  table  fall?" 

But  Solomon  was  silent,  and  to  her, 
In  whose  touched  heart  of  keenest  sympathy 
Such  questionings  had  risen,  no  answer  came ; 
And  painfully  she  felt  that  none  could  come. 
Yet,  not  the  less,  her  love,  her  passionate  love, 
Scarce  blinded  now,  resistless,  urged  her  on, 
Vaguely  dissatisfied,  and  wondering 
What  time  would  bring,  and  what  the  end  would  be. 

The  king  still  lingering  with  a  clouded  brow, 
As   though   some   vexing   thought    his    peace    had 

marred, 
At  length  besought  of  Sulamith  a  song, 


124  SULAMITH. 


A  parting  song  of  love,  from  which  perchance 
His  soul  might  sweetness  draw  for  coming  hours 
That  of  her  sweeter  presence  would  be  void. 
And  thus,  in  unison  with  what  had  passed, 
With  more  of  passion,  less  of  melody 
Than  was  her  wont,  these  burning  words  she  sang 

SONG. 

Set  me  as  a  seal  upon  thy  heart ; 

Bind  on  thee  some  token  that  I  am  thine  ; 
Pledge  me  that  none  beside  shall  have  part 

In  the  love  to  be  forever  mine. 

Love  is  strong  as  death,  and  as  the  grave, 

So  cruel  the  rage  of  jealousy ; 
Give  me,  beloved,  the  boon  I  crave, 

And  quenched  its  vehement  flames  shall  be. 


XI. 
NAAMAH. 

|RIEF  was  the  reign  of  winter.     Sullen  skies, 
The    bleak    north   winds,    chill    rains    and 

pelting  hail, 
Flurries  of  snow  and  ice-commingled  floods 
Were  of  the  past ;  and  the  returning  sun, 
Rekindling  his  abated  fires,  was  now 
Warming  the  air  and  wakening  the  earth 
With  thrills  prophetic  of  returning  spring. 

From  the  embassadors  at  Rabbah-Ammon 
The    news    had    come,    that    well    had    sped    their 

mission ; 

And  that  the  wintry  storms  now  only  hindered 
Their  homeward  journey,  with  the  priceless  trophy 
Their  diplomatic  skill  at  length  had  won. 

125 


126  SULAMITH* 


Hence  when    such    calmer,  brighter  days  had 

come, 

As  summon  back  from  sunnier  climes  the  birds 
That  through  the  wintry  months  are  self-exiled, 
There  dawned  a  vision  on  expectant  eyes, 
That  far  outrivalled  all  the  brilliancy 
Of  plumed  songsters  in  returning  flight : 
Within  the  palace  gate,   in  triumph  led, 
Came  Naamah,  with  charms  that  worthily  graced 
The  affianced  bride  of  Israel's  mighty  king. 

But  that  which  others  hailed  with  glad  acclaim, 
Had,  in  anticipation,  brought  no  joy 
Or  triumph  to  the  heart  of  Solomon. 
The  unforgotten  words  of  Sulamith 
Had  filled  him  with  disquiet  unallayed, 
And  started  ponderings  that  would  not  cease 
To  urge  replies  to  questions  answerless. 
With  him  the  bound  from  life's  simplicity 
Of  plans  and  purposes  and  innocent  joys, 
And  freely  chosen  objects  of  his  love, 
To  utter  contrasts  found  in  royalty, — 
Its  artificial  life  and  luxury, 
And  manifold  restraints  that  leave  to  kings 


N A  AMAH.  127 


Far  narrower  liberties,  in  things  that  lie 
The  nearest  to  their  hearts,  than  are  enjoyed 
By  even  the  lowliest  subjects  of  their  realms, — 
This  change,  so  utter  and  so  unforeseen, 
Had  more  than  tasked  his  mighty  intellect, 
Which  failed  to  grasp  the  fateful  consequence 
Of  those  relationships  by  him  unsought, 
Through  which  an  alien  custom  of  his  time, 
Unhappily  engrafted  on  his  reign, 
Had  linked  him  with  the  women  of  his  court. 

What  dread  susceptibilities  may  sleep 
In  human  hearts,  inactive  potencies, 
Like  garnered  seed,  that  fertile,  favoring  soil 
And  nurturing  warmth  and  moisture  yet  shall  bring 
To  germination,  growth  and  fruitfulness ! 
Of  Solomon,  the  frank  and  blameless  youth, 
Smitten  with  love  of  wisdom,  lifted  high 
By  his  ennobling  aims  above  the  lures 
Of  soul-debasing  sensuality, 
Sage,  poet,  lover  of  his  brother  man, 
Humble  and  reverent  worshiper  of  God — 
None  would  have  dreamed — until  the  testing  change 
Through  which  he  passed  its  sad  disclosure  made — 


128  SULAMITH. 


That  in  his  nature  there  were  hidden  germs, 
Which  all  too  readily  would  yield  response 
To  reeking  soil  and  sultry  atmosphere, 
That  bring  to  tropical  luxuriance 
Sin's  deadly  poison-flowers  in  courts  of  kings. 

Yet  for  a  time  he  had  but  vaguely  felt 
The  force  of  new  surroundings,  and  his  love 
Still  so  inwrapt  him  with  its  sacredness, 
That,  as  a  coat  of  mail,  it  shielded  him 
From  all  the  flying  shafts  of  beaming  eyes, 
Which  oftentimes  assailed,  with  purposed  aim, 
The  well-suspected  weakness  of  his  heart. 

The  subtle  influence  insensibly 
Touched  and  discolored  feelings  hitherto 
As  brightly  clear  as  drops  of  morning  dew. 
Only  the  eye  that  tries  the  heart  and  reins 
Could  note  the  slowly  gathering,  thickening  film, 
That  in  the  end  would  darken  all  his  soul. 
His  daily  interviews  with  Sulamith 
With  much  of  early  sweetness  still  were  fraught, 
And  yet  to  him  they  brought  a  nameless  pain, 
A  sense  of  something  higher,  holier 


NAAMAH.  129 


In  her  than  aught  to  which  he  could  attain  ; 

And  when,  with  daring  wing,  she  soared  to  heights 

Glowing  with  splendors  of  unsetting  suns, — 

He  too  a  sharer  in  her  noble  thoughts, 

At  least  for  golden  moments, — even  then, 

He  felt  as  they  who  dwell  in  valleys  deep 

That  lie  around  a  lofty  .mountain's  base, 

When  on  its  topmost  peak  at  last  they  stand, 

And  find — in  greater  nearness  to  the  skies, 

In  high  uplifting  from  a  lowlier  sphere 

Of  often  murky,  miasmatic  air, 

Only,  alas,  with  strange  uneasiness, 

With  heaving  lungs,  and  throbbings  of  the  heart 

Quickened  to  painfulness — that  all  too  pure, 

Etherial,   tenuous  and  coldly  keen, 

Are  these  free  breezes  of  the  mountain  heights, 

For  such  as  they  whose  homes  are  in  the  vale. 

Still,    though    his   wings    were    drooping,   for 

awhile 

He  fondly  held  his  high  ideals  fast, 
And  little  heed  would  give  to  grosser  baits 
With  which  the  Tempter  sought  to  snare  his  soul. 
But  evil,  that  had  marked  him  for  its  prey, 

9 


130  SULAMITH. 


Found  other  avenues  than  those  of  sense 

Through  which  to  reach  the  citadel  within. 

It  was  not  for  forbidden  fruit  he  longed, 

But  for  the  unrestricted  liberty 

To  do  his  kingly  pleasure,  hindered  not 

By  frowning  wall  or  flaming  cherubim, 

Which  seemed  to  cross  or  guard  the  very  paths 

That  else  had  led  him  to  a  chosen  goal. 

His  pledge  to  Sulamith  was  not  recalled 
By  any  waning  feeling  of  his  heart ; 
But  to  his  mind  the  troubling  fear  had  come 
That  its  fulfillment  and  the  realm's  advantage 
Might  prove  irreconcilable  :    And  when 
The  near  approach  of  Naamah  was  announced, 
The  tidings  brought  to  him  a  chafing  sense, 
Till  then  unfelt,   of  that  exclusive  bond 
Which — not  abjured — would  make  a  mockery 
Of  this  already  stipulated  marriage 
That  must  in  form  alone  be  ratified. 

Never  had  Solomon  felt  such  pressing  need 
Of  wisdom  greater  than  his  matchless  own, 
Wherewith  to  solve  the  problem  which  he  knew 


NAAMAH.  131 


Involved  his  peace,  perchance  his  destiny. 
Alas,  he  failed  to  ask  of  him  who  gives 
Freely  to  them  who  ask,  upbraiding  not ; 
And,  worst  of  all,   he  failed  in  purpose  high, 
Come  what  might  come,   to  let  the  right  decide. 
Weak  compromise,  or  plausible  excuse 
For  mere  postponement  of  the  evil  day, — 
These  were  his  sole  resort ;  yet  all  the  while, 
He  held  his  pledge  inviolate,  his  heart 
Still  thrilled  at  every  thought  of  Sulamith. 

Such  was  the  monarch's  vexed,  unstable  mood, 
His  vacillation  and  perplexity, 
That  cast  their  shadows,  so  inopportune, 
Over  his  countenance,  when  now  had  come 
The  time  that  he  must  stand  in  Naamah's  presence, 
With  greetings  due  a  princess  and  a   bride. 
Alike  in  vain  his  struggles  to  repress 
The  embarrassed  feeling  or  its  visible  trace, 
Until  before  him  swept  the  dazzling  vision, 
Exceeding  far  the  praises  he  had  heard, 
Incredulous,  of  her  surpassing  charms. 
As  mists  are  scattered  by  the  rising  sun, 
And  all  the  dimness  and  the  dreariness 


132  SULAMITH. 


Melt  into  mellow  radiance  suddenly, 

So,  at  the   brightness  of  that  vision,   fled 

The  gloom  that  darkened  Solomon's  heart  and  brow. 

And  who  shall  blame  him?    Beauty  evermore 
Must  work  its  charm  upon  both  sense  and  soul, 
Nor  waits  for  sufferance  of  will  or  conscience. 
With  no  more  guilt  than  in  the  admiring  gaze 
When  it  is  drawn  to  nature's  loveliness 
Of  earth  or  air,  the  landscape  verdurous, 
Birds,  flowers,  woods,  mountains  and  the  shimmering 

seas  ; 

Cloud-fleets  that  lie  becalmed  on  azure  skies, 
Or  float,  with  keels  of  gold,  upon  the  floods 
Of  sunset  radiance — as  sinlessly 
Are  manly  hearts  to  woman's  beauty  won. 

The  form  that  met  the  king's  entranced  gaze 
Was  not  of  queen-like  stature.     On  her  face 
Was  nothing  of  that  pure  and  kindling   light 
Of  spiritual  grace,  which  sometimes  made 
The  face  of  Sulamith  to  shine  as  might 
A  happy,  sinless  angel's.     Different, 
In  what  was  visible  and  what  unseen, 


N  A  AM  AH.  133 


Her  type  of  womanhood  from  that  prevailing 
Among  the  dark-haired  maids  of  Israel  : 
Her  hair  was  golden,  and  in  lustre  matched 
The  circlet  of  inwoven  gems  and  pearls 
That  half  restrained  the  freedom  of  its  flow 
And  kept  her  white  brow  bare.     Her  oval  face, 
Of  faultless  feature  and  transparent  fairness, 
Made  revelation  of  her  flitting  thoughts 
And  changeful  moods,  by  ever  answering  flush 
And  fading  of  the  roses  on  her  cheeks. 

Their  crimson  spread  and  deepened  consciously 
Under  the  brightening  glances  of  the  king ; 
And  then  to  his  her  dark  blue  eyes  were  raised, 
Half  timidly  and  half  appealingly, 
And  from  them  soon  the  light  of  gladness  shone, 
And,  more  than  words,  bespoke  her  recognition 
Of  all  that  she  had  ever  hoped  or  dreamed 
Of  manly  beauty  and  of  kindly  welcome 
In  him  to  whom  she  came  a  plighted  bride. 
The  smile  that  played  upon  her  lovely  lips, 
Her  attitude  of  childlike  eagerness, 
Of  happy,  confident  expectancy, — 
All  touchingly  and  winningly  expressed 


134  SULAMITH. 


To  Solomon  her  pleasure  to  be  his, 
The  full  and  glad  abandonment  with  which 
She  gave  herself  to  him,  and  doubted  not 
His  readiness  to  prize  the  proffered  gift. 

Alas,  for  Sulamith,  and  sadder  far 
For  him  whose  strength  before  it  weakness  proved, — 
Something  in  Naamah,  consummate  art, 
Or  still  more  formidable  artlessness 
That  marked  her  as  the  unsophisticated  child 
Of  nature's  self,  of  earth  the  earthliest, 
Yet  of  its  finest  elements  compound, 
And  with  its  most  seductive  graces  dowered — 
Something  in  her,  or  rather  all  she  was, 
And  much  that  she  was  not,   effectively 
Wrought  the  ensnarement  of  the  yielding  king. 

Of  Solomon's  two-fold  nature,  hitherto 
That  which  was  noblest  was  the  crowning  part. 
Sheltered  and  nurtured,  growing  with  his  growth 
And  strengthening  with  his  strength,  it  only  waned 
And  languished  in  ungenial  royalty. 
And  sooner  would  the  vigor  of  his  soul, 
The  dominance  of  truth  and  purity 
Have  felt  the  withering  blight,  the  weakening  strain, 


NAAMAH.  135 


But  for  the  counteracting  potency 

Of  his  deep,  deathless  love  for  Sulamith. 

But  now  the  lower  self  in  Solomon — 
Lower,  yet  not  intrinsically  base, 
Or  in  its  rightful  place  subardinate 
To  be  contemned — had  risen,  fully  armed, 
Against  its  higher,  lordlier  counterpart, 
In  hot  revolt,  impetuous,  resolute 
To  seize  the  sceptre  and  to  wear  the  crown. 

Too  long  within  that  palace-paradise 
The  glozing  tempter  had  already  dwelt, 
Though  not  in  serpent  shape  repulsive  grown ; 
And  now  an  incarnation  he  had  won 
Of  blended  loveliness  and  guilelessness — 
Or  so  in  seeming — that  an  angel's  face 
Might  fitly  wear.      The  siren  voice  that  calls 
The  evil  good,  and  makes  it  so  appear, 
That  fatally  persuades  to  sin  and  doom, 
Spoke  to  the  weakened  heart  of  Solomon 
Through  tender  glances  of  the  love-lit  eyes, 
And  smiles  of  winsome  sweetness  on  the  lips 
Of  Naamah,  his  beauteous  heathen-bride. 


1,36  SULAMITH. 


In  feeling,  half  in  purpose,  Solomon 
Had  fallen,  but  not  yet  in  overt  act 
Of  faithlessness  to  her,  to  whom  was  pledged 
So  sacredly  his  undivided  love. 
Apart  from  Naamah  he  still  could  rise, 
Above  his  felt  debasement,  to  the  height 
Of  all  his  nature's  former  loftiness ; 
Then  over  him  would  sweep  resistlessly 
A  passionate  longing  after  Sulamith  ; 
And,  in  his  heart  of  hearts,  he  deeply  knew 
That  nothing  worthy  in  his  life  would  live, 
If  he  should  lose  her  wholly,  hopelessly. 
In  these  his  better  moods,  that  rarer  came 
As  time  passed  on,  he  sought  impulsively 
Her  presence  unto  whom  his  soul  was  drawn, 
As  heaves  the  ocean  toward  attracting  heaven. 
And,  for  awhile,  the  swift  and  blissful  hours 
Of  fond  communings  were  but  little  marred 
With  painful  prescience  or  disturbing  doubt. 
They  came,  indeed,  unbidden  to  the  heart 
Of  Sulamith,  but  always  so  unwelcomed, 
So  resolutely  at  the  threshold  fought, 
They  early  took  their  flight,  and  left  to  her 
An  ever  dwindling  space  of  blessedness. 


XII. 
TROUBLED    DREAMS. 

|HE  brooding  dove  of  peace,  that  long  had  dwelt 
Within  the  sheltering  breast  of  Snlamith, 
Now  timid  grown,  with  wildly  fluttering  wing 
Its  home  deserted  ;  but  still  hovered  near, 
Reluctant  to  depart  for  gathering  storms, 
That  might  compel  its  unreturning  flight 
From  nesting  place  so  sweet. 

As  days  dragged  on, 

And  nights  of  sleeplessness  or  troubled  dreams, 
Her  conflict  with  assailing  doubts  and  fears 
Incessant  raged.     At  times  her  mighty  love, 
All-conquering,  routed  from  the  battle  field — 
Her  riven  heart — these  ever  gathering  foes. 
But  darker  days  would  come,  when  gloom  prevailed, 
Misgivings  triumphed,  confidence  was  slain, 
And  even  hope  had  fled. 

137 


138  SULAMITH. 


Now  rumor's  tongue 

Was  more  than  ever  busy  with  the  name 
And  fame  of  Solomon  ;  and  to  the  ears 
Of  Sulamith  were  wafted  troubling  tales 
Of  Naamah,  the  Ammonitess  fair, 
And  how  her  wondrous,  winning  loveliness 
Had  seemed  to  touch  the  king,  as  none  before, 
Save  only  Sulamith,  had  ever  done. 
And  there  were  whisperers  who  brought  to  her 
Hints  of  his  preference  manifestly  shown, 
Of  smiles  and  glances,  too  significant, 
Which  had  been  seen  to  pass  between  the  twain  ; 
And  even  of  stolen  visits  to  her  rooms, 
Noted  by  envious  eyes. 

Though  Sulamith 

Would  never  seem  to  heed  such  idle  tales — 
For  such  she  held  them — still,  within  her  heart, 
They  lodged  and  lived  and  bred,  against  her  will, 
A  brood  of  turbulent  and  bitter  thoughts  ; 
And  when  day  after  day  had  passed  and  yet 
The  king  came  not,  as  daily  hitherto, — 
Save  as  his  absence  hindered, — he  had  done, 
Resentment  and  distrust  together  grew. 


TROUBLED    DREAMS.  139 

But  soon  the  refluent  tides  of  tenderness 
Would  rise  again,  and  all  her  soul  would  yearn 
For  his  forgiveness,  blaming  but  herself. 

Once,  when  such  softened  mood  had  come  to  her, 
With  strange  and  troubled  visions  of  the  night — 
Projection  of  her  latest  waking  thought 
Into  the  mystic,  mazy  realm  of  sleep, — 
The  feeling  lingered  through  succeeding  days, 
And  so  upon  her  vivid  fancy  wrought, 
That  she  would  fain  have  given  it  expression 
In  tuneful  song  or  music  of  her  viol, 
But  that  she  would  not  share  its  sacredness 
With  idle  or  with  curious  listeners ; 
And,  hence,  the  tender  memory,  the  stream 
Of  stirred  emotion  and  of  troubled  thought, 
Flowed  from  her  hand,  in  silent  tracery 
Upon  her  tablet,  even  as  if  it  sought 
Thereby  to  find  its  way  to  sister  hearts, 
Which  with  her  own  might  beat  in  sympathy. 


140  SULAMITH. 


SULAMITH'S   DREAM. 

Drowsiness  over  my  senses  crept, 

But  oh,  it  was  not  my  heart  that  slept : 

In  vision  or  in  reality 

He  whom  it  loves  drew  near  to  me  ; 

He  stood  and  knocked  at  my  bolted  door, 

As  he  oft  had  stood  and  knocked  before. 

My  soul's  deep  tenderness  was  stirred, 

Whilst  the  music  of  his  voice  I  heard 

Again  and  again, 

With  this  sad  refrain, 
Pleading  for  entrance — but  in  vain. 

"I  am  pining,  oh,  sister-spouse,  for  thee. 
Open,  my  dove  undefiled,  to  me  ! 

I  have  waited  until 

With  night-dews  chill 
My  locks  are  wet ;  and  I  wait,  wait  still. ' ' 

Deep  slumber  had  all  my  powers  enthralled, 
Yet  I  woke  when  my  beloved  called ; 
But  the  words  with  which  my  lips  replied 
The  love  of  my  yearning  heart  belied ; 
For  I  lightly  said  or  seemed  to  say, 


TROUBLED    DREAMS.  141 


In  mocking  excuse  for  my  delay : 
"My  robe  I  have  laid  aside  with  care, 
My  feet  for  the  night  are  bathed  and  bare  ; 

Sleep  so  seals  my  eyes, 

That  I  cannot  rise 
Till  the  birds  shall  sing  to  the  purpling  skies." 

He  humbly  pleads  who  might  well  command, 

From  royal  throne  and  with  sceptred  hand, 

That  hand — a  suppliant's  now — I  see, 

Through  the  door's  opening,  stretched  toward  me. 

Not  long  does  it  mutely  plead  in  vain ; 

Love's  swelling  tide  rises  high  amain, 

And  it  bears  me  on  its  mighty  flow. 

(But  waking  or  sleeping,  who  could  know?) 

From  my  flowing  hair  and  finger  tips 

The  sweetness  of  myrrh  and  aloes  drips, 

As  my  eager  hands  undp  the  door ; 

But  ah,  on  its  threshold  waits  no  more, 

In  the  dim  starlight 

Of  the  chill,  damp  night, 
My  only  beloved,  my  soul's  delight. 

He  had  turned  away,  for  alas,  too  long 


142  SULAMITH. 


Had  my  idle  dalliance  done  him  wrong. 
I  saw  a  shadowy  form  that  fled, 
And  after  it,  waking  or  sleeping,  sped. 
Swift  as  a  roe's,  my  unsandaled  feet 
Threaded  the  narrow  and  flinty  street, 
Till  the  form  I  followed  in  my  flight 
Seemed  only  a  phantom  of  the  night ; 

And  to  my  wild  cry 

There  came  no  reply 
Through  the  gloom  that  deepened  on  earth  and  sky. 

My  strength  both  of  soul  and  of  limbs  gave  way, 
I  fell,  and  prone  on  the  cold  ground  lay. 
Soon  the  watchmen's  torches  over  me  flared, 
Their  pitiless  eyes  upon  me  glared  ; 
And  they  fiercely  spurned  me  with  their  feet, 
As  they  might  some  vile  thing  of  the  street. 
I  swooned,  from  the  mortal  dread  and  shame, 
And  all  was  a  blank  till  morning  came. 
Then,  at  the  opening  of  my  eyes, 
With  mingled  wonder  and  surprise 
And  tearful  joy,  did  I  recognize, 
Above  my  softly  pillowed  head, 
The  silken  canopy  of  my  bed ; 


TROUBLED    DREAMS.  143 


And  saw,  in  the  blending  light  and  shade, 

That  fitfully  through  my  chamber  played, 

On  the  carved  ceiling  and  the  floor, 

All  that  I  oft  had  noted  before ; 

And  knew  things  were  not  what  they  seemed, 

That  the  night's  strange  horrors  were  but  dreamed  ! 

No  bruises  upon  my  flesh  were  found, 

But  my  heart  still  bleeds  with  an  inward  wound, 

And  thrills  with  pain, 

That  again  and  again — 
Though  but  in  a  dream — my  love  plead  in  vain. 

Oh,  Jerusalem's  daughters,  if  it  be 
That  you  my  beloved  one  shall  see, 
Speak  not  of  the  dream  my  fancy  wove, 
But  say  I  am  sad  and  sick  of  love. 


XIII. 

PARADISE  LOST. 
IKE    hapless    barque   within    the    whirlpool's 


rim 


Unstemmed   the    circling   current's     eddying 

flow, 

The  downward  swirl  that  to  the  vortex  bears, 
So  was  it  with  the  passion-driven  king. 

Like  witless  moth  of  shining,  silken  wing, 
Enamored  with  the  taper's  fatal  blaze, 
Still  to  the  bright  allurement  nearer  drawn, 
And  in  its  fierce  enfoldings  soon  to  die, 
So  was  it  with  this  wisest  of  the  wise — 
His  folly  and  its  fruit  of  destiny. 

How  are  the  mighty  fallen!     Prostrate  lie 
Honor  and  faithfulness  and  purity. 
Yet  in  his  heart,  not  heedless  of  its  guilt, 
144 


PARADISE    LOST.  145 

Still  lived  and   reigned  his  love  for  Sulamith  ; 
And  when,   from  passion  and  illusion  free, 
His  nobler  self  brief  mastery  regained, 
Such  impulse  stirred  within  him  restlessly 
As  drove  him  to  her  side. 

Could  it  have  been 

That  what  was  in  his  vivid  consciousness 
Was  written  on  his  face?     Did  broken  vows, 
A  sense  of  tarnished  honor  and  untruth, 
His  wrongfulness  of  heart  and  life — as  yet 
Not  otherwise  disclosed — signal  their  shame 
Through  something  of  its  former  brightness  fled? 

When  Sulamith,   from  troubled  musings  roused, 
First  recognized  the  presence  of  the  king, 
Over  her  countenance,  like  sunrise,  spread 
The  tender  light  of  love.     Her  glad  surprise 
Her  happy  welcome  told.     But  as  her  eyes — 
Through  which  her  very  soul  looked  searchingly, 
As  though  it  fain  would  fathom  what  it  deemed 
Love's  soundless  depths  in  his — still  rested  on  him, 
Some  shadow  as  of  intercepting  cloud, 
Some  disappointing  change  that  met  her  gaze, 
Brought  swift  eclipse  to  all  her  beaming  joy. 

10 


146  SULAMITH. 


Backward  she  shrank  and  partly  turned  away. 
The  crimson  bloom  forsook  her  paling  cheek, 
The  love-light  vanished  and  her  features  wore — 
Through  sudden  transformation — such  a  look, 
So  fraught  with  deadly  pain,  yet  fixed  and  frozen, 
And  stamped  with  resolution  firm  and  high, 
That  Solomon,  who  had  been  drawing  near 
With  eager  face  and  with  extended  arms, 
Made  instant  pause,  and  to  his  brow  there  shot 
A  flush  of  anger  or  of  wounded  pride 
Or  of  insulted  love,  as  it  might  be 
With  one  who  for  caresses  looked  and  longed, 
But  in  their  stead  received  a  stinging  blow. 

Then  to  the  tumult  of  her  soul  there  came 

The  recollection  that,  whatever  else 

He  was  or  was  not  unto  her,  yet  he 

Was  still  the  Lord's  anointed  and  her  king  : 

Hence,  with  due  reverence  for  the  majesty, 

That  in  its  changeless  sacredness  remained, 

Though  truth  were  lost  and  honor's  lustre  dimmed, 

She  bowed  before   him,  but  with  veiled  eyes, 

And  only  as  a  stranger-subject   might, 

In  meek  obeisance,,  waiting  on  his  will. 


PARADISE    LOST.  147 


Then  spake  the  king  when,  after  silence  brief, 
The  storm  of  passion  in  his  breast  was  lulled  : 

"Too  plainly  I   perceive,  oh,  Sulamith, 
That  thou  hast   knowledge  more  than  seemeth  meet 
Or  for  thy  peace  or  good.     Birds  of  the  air 
Bear  unto  thee,  upon  their  mischievous  wings, 
Even  secrets  of  the  chamber  whispered  low. 
Some  raven  croaking  evil  of  the  king, 
Who  holds  thee  dearest,  thou  hast  surely  heard  : 
But  know,  beloved,  judgment  often  errs 
In  rash  condemning  of  the  one  accused, 
Who  on  his  own  behalf  hath  answered  not. 
The  assailant's  cause,  first  plead,  seems  ever  right 
Till  the  assailed  doth  come  and  searcheth  him. 

"Departure  from  the  tenor  of  my  pledge 

And  purpose  of  my  heart  to  be  but  thine, 

Save  as  to  empty  name,  and  form  of  marriage, 

I  needs  must  own.     But  when  that  pledge  was  given, 

I  knew  not  that  the  inevitable  stress 

Of  those  conditions,  which  I  vainly  dreamed 

Were  wholly  at  my  royal  disposition, 

Would  sway  my  sceptre,  would  usurp  my  throne. 


148  SULAMITH. 


And  hold  me  vassal  to  its  sovereignty 

Even  in  that  against  which,  most  of  all, 

My  wish  and  will  alike  strove  helplessly. 

So  much,    I  own,  my  plighted  word  has  failed  ; 

But  none  beside  thee  shares,  or  ever  can, 

In  that  sole  love  which,  with  my  heart,  my  life, 

Myself,  my  throne,  my  all,  I  give  to  thee. 

"I  hold  such  marriage  state  most  excellent 
As  God  did  first  ordain  in  Paradise, 
Wherein  the  twain,  one  man,  one  woman  meet, 
Forsaking  others  all,  cleave  each  to  each, 
And  so  become  one  flesh.     For  joy  of  wedlock, 
Its  peace  and  good,  and  for  all  human  weal, 
God's  plan  for  Eden  for  the  world  were  best. 
Yet,  in  its  fallen  state,  He  hath  not  held 
With  rigor  to  that  primal  Eden  law. 
Even  holy  patriarchs  from  it  turned  aside 
For  other  wives  than  one,  nor  were  condemned. 
And  shall  my  royal  father's  memory 
The  less  be  honored,  that,  in  this  estate 
Of  marriage  multifold,  he  lived  and  died, 
Of  men  approved  and  by  Jehovah  loved  ? 
I  follow  in  the  brightened  path  he  trod, 


PARADISE    LOST.  149 


Guiltless,  save  in  my  broken  pledge  to  thee. 
For  this,  thy  clemency  I  humbly  crave. 
Grant  to  my  smitten  heart  this  healing  balm, 
And  from  the  wreck  of  thy  lost  confidence, 
Thus  shattered  on  the  shoals  of  unknown  seas, 
Made  skillful  by  experience  early  gained 
From  lessons  of  perplexity  and  pain, 
These  hands  a  stauncher  structure  shall  erect, 
In  which  thy  soul  may  dwell,  without  a  fear 
Of  damage  to  be  wrought  by  further  change." 

"Speak  one  forgiving  word.     Oh,  lift  again 
The  brightness  of  those  downcast  eyes  on  me. 
Tell  me  the  day  for  which  my  soul  has  longed 
And  watched,  as  they  who  through  a  dreary  night 
Watch  for  the  morning,  even  now  is  near, 
When  thy  sweet  promise  to  be  wholly  mine 
Shall  be  fulfilled.     Then  hear  my  kingly  oath : 
Within  my  heart  and  ever  at  my  side, 
Upon  my  throne  thy  place  supreme  shall  be. 
The  daughters  all  shall  bless  thee,  and  the  queens 
And  concubines  shall  praise  thee.     Only  thou, 
Their  queen  and  mine,  shalt  honored  mother  be 
Of  him  who,  after  me,  shall  sit  upon 


150  SULAMITH. 


The  throne  of  David,  and  from  whom  shall  spring 
The  illustrious  line  of  Israel's  mighty  kings, 
Till  He  at  last  shall  come,  the  Promised  One, 
Who  over  all  the  conquered  world  shall  reign." 

The  monarch's  words,  as  never  in  the  past, 
Rang  hollow  in  the  ears  of  Sulamith. 
A  sudden  change  within  her  had  been  wrought, 
That  made  his  wisdom  seem  no  longer  wise ; 
And  all  the  feeling  of  his  fervid  speech 
Failed  to  awake  an  echo  in  her  heart. 
Nor  had  the  faithful  teaching  of  her  sire 
Left  her  unarmed  against  the  sophistry 
With  which  the  king  essayed  to  set  aside 
God's  marriage  law  for  Eden  and  the  world — 
Never  repealed,  nor  ever  weaker  grown  ; 
Its  penalties  exacted, — at  the  hands 
Of  best  and  greatest  who  against  it  sinned, — 
In  broken  peace  of  homes,  in  broods  of  crimes 
And  woes  that  from  its  violation  sprang ; 
Its  woman-victims  always  first  and  last 
And  chief  of  sufferers.     Such  was  the  thought 
That  flashed  like  lightning  through  her  mind,  and  slew 
The  error  of  his  speech. 


PARADISE    LOST.  151 


Indignantly, 

And  shamed  as  for  herself,  she  also  heard 
Him,  she  had  manliest  deemed,  confess  himself 
Too  weak  to  keep  his  word  inviolate 
Against  the  tyranny   of  usages 
To  Israel  brought  from  heathen  courts  and  kings ; 
And  only  that  her  grieved  but  deathless  love 
And  rising  pity   plead  on  his  behalf, 
She  would  have  answered  him  with  words  of  scorn. 

A  moment's  silence,  while  her  struggling  will 
Sought  mastery  of  the  stormy  turbulence 
And  chaos  of  her  sorely  stricken  heart ; 
Then,  with  slow  utterance,  as  of  one  who  weighs 
Each  word,  as  if  its  freight  were  life  or  death, 
She  spoke  her  low,  sad  answer  to  the  king : 

"Thou  say'st  thy  vow  is  broken.     I  am  thus 
Absolved  of  mine  ;  but  oh,  I  find  it  naught 
But  vain  and  bitter  sorrow  to  be  free ; 
And  still,  my  heart  is  holden  with  dear  bonds 
Not  even  death  shall  break. 

' '  In  Lebanon 
A    shepherd  youth  was  mine.      I  only  his. 


J52  SULAMITH. 


In  this  our  sole  and  mutual  possession 

Each  of  the  other,  we  were  well  content, 

With  an  abounding  blessedness  to  which 

The  riches  of  a  world  could  add  no  more* 

But  all  too  soon  there  came  a  fateful  day 

When  he  departed.     Weary  months  passed  by, 

Yet  neither  he  nor  tidings  of  him  came. 

But  when,  at  length,  the  hope  of  his  return, 

On  which  my  soul  had  fed  as  for  its  life, 

Had  dwindled  till  it  seemed  the  meager  crust, 

The  last  poor  morsel  of  the  failing  hoard, 

Which  when  the  famine-stricken  one  should  eat, 

He  would  but  wait  to  die, — then  came  to  me 

One  who  declared  himself  my  lost  one  found. 

All  that  he  seemed  confirmed  the  welcome  claim 

To  my  fond  heart,  which  \vhat  it  wished  believed, 

And  so  repelled  misgivings,  until  now, 

That  from  its  fortressed  door  they,  vanquished,  fled. 

"Alas,  the  very  lips,  from  which  my  soul 
Drank  in  the  sweet  deception,  speak  the  words 
That  break  its  spell  forever.     Now  I  know 
That  he,  the  crowned  king  of  Israel, 
Who  yields — for  customs  greater  than  his  throne, 


PARADISE    LOST.  153 

And  stronger  than  his  might — his  liberty 
To  keep  his  sacred  word  to  her  whose  all 
Was  staked  upon  its  truth  and  steadfastness, 
Is  wholly  other  than  my  loved  and  lost. 
Hence  nothing  else  is  left  for  Sulamith — 
Her  grievous  error  known — but  to  lament 
Her  shepherd  dead  !     Her  virgin  widowhood 
Would  illy  sort  with  mirth  of  palace  halls, 
And  must  no  longer  cast  its  shadow  here. 
One  only  boon  she  craves  ;  henceforth  to  dwell 
With  her  sad  memories  in  the  shadowed  haunts 
Of  cedared  Lebanon,  her  fitting  home." 

More  than  the  pathos  of  the  maiden's  words, 
Its  veiled  imputation  touched  the  king — 
A  keen-edged  sword  which,  through  all  subterfuge, 
His  quickened  conscience  pierced,  and  roused  his  wrath 
Against  himself,  to  such  intensity 
That  its  hot  lightnings  flashed  in  petulant  words ; 
And,  in  his  swift  reply  to  Sulamith, 
He  hinted  of  her  duty  to  obey 
His  royal  mandates,  and  reminded  her 
That  even  the  love  with  which  he  honored  her 
Worked  no  absolving  of  her  loyalty  ; 


154  SULAMITH. 


And  that,  wherein  his  gentleness  had  failed, 
His  sovereign  power  might  forcefully  compel. 

With  patient  meekness  yet  with  dignity, 
Deep  grief  and  pity  blending  in  her  tones, 
Thus  Sulamith  his  tide  of  passion  stemmed  : 

"Oh,   Solomon,  my  king! — that  such  thou  art, 
Most  gladly  would  I  own,  if  this  poor  heart 
And  gladness  had  not  parted. — Humbly,  then, 
I  own  thee  king  ;  but  only  such,  to  me, 
Henceforth,  save  in  my  treasured  memories 
Of  what  is  past  and  gone  beyond  recall. 
So  well  I  know  thy  wisdom  and,  far  more, 
The  kindness  of  thy  great  and  kingly  heart, 
I  cannot  fear  thy  power.     No  power  hast  thou 
That  ever  can  avail  to  make  of  me — 
Weak  and  defenceless  as  I  surely  am, 
Were  I  not  girdled  with  Almighty  arms — 
One  of  the  multitude  thou  callest  wives. 
At  most  thou  can'st  but  slay  me,  if  thou  wilt ; 
But  death  has  lost  its  terror,  since  from  life 
Its  trusted  love  and  blessedness  have  fled. 
Oh,  sweet,  methinks,   the  mortal  blow  would  be, 


PARADISE    LOST.  155 


If  dealt  by  thy  dear  hand.     Yes,   I  can  die, 

As  Jeptha's  virgin  daughter  proudly  died  ; 

As  true,  tried  hearts  have  often  welcomed  death  ; 

But  cannot  live,  oh  king,  for  even  thee, 

A  life  my  soul  would  loathe  and  count  its  shame." 

As  to  her  lofty  words  the  baffled  king 
Gave  heed,  his  anger  died  away.     Remorse 
And  shame  of  self  reigned  only  in  its  room. 
The  maiden,  marble  pale  and  statue-like, 
With  drooped  and  tearless  eyes,  but  look  of  pain 
Unutterable,  far  above  him  seemed 
To  tower  in  regal,  stainless  purity  ; 
And  all  the  glory  of  great  Solomon 
Dwindled  and  groveled  at  her  queenly  feet. 
Nor  did  he  dare  to  lay  his  soiled  hand 
Upon  her  garment's  hem.     Never  before, 
Within  him  stirred  such  yearning  for  her  love, 
As  now,  when  with  a  pang  like  death,  he  felt 
That,  prized  by  him  the  most,  she  was  to  him 
Most  lost — forever  lost !     It  was  with  him 
As  it  might  be  with  one  who  saw,  at  last, 
A  saintly  spirit,  linked  awhile  to  his 
By  earthly  love  alone,  and  beautiful 


156  SULAMIJH. 


In  all  the  grace  of  ripened  holiness, 

Pluming  its  full-fledged  wings  for  heavenward  flight, 

Which  he  can  only  follow  with  his  gaze 

Of  wistful  longing,  sadly,  hopelessly  ! 


One  rose  the  less  on  Sharon's  blooming  plain  ; 

One  leaf  dropped  noiseless  from  the  foliage 

That  forms  a  forest's  verdant  canopy  ; 

One  star  that  shines  no  longer  from  a  sky 

Crowded  with  constellations  numberless, 

And  nebulous  mazes  woven  of  bright  worlds  ; — 

Plucked  rose,  leaf  fallen,  veiled  or  vanished  star, 

Unmissed  of  common  eyes  ;  so,  missed  scarce  more, — 

Save  by  the  humbled,   troubled,  heart-sick  king, — 

Passed  silently  from  out  the  palace  halls, 

And  all  the  brilliant  throngs  that   brightened  them, 

Sad,  desolate,   triumphant  Sulamith. 

Around  the  vine-clad  slopes  of  Lebanon 
The  mists  are  gathering,  and,  lo  !  they  hide 
The  stately  form  on  which  our  charmed  eyes 
Have  lingered  long,  the  form  of  beauty  rare, 
That  shrined  a  soul  more  rarely  beautiful — 
A  soul  whose  might  of  love  was  held  in  thrall 


PARADISE    LOST.  157 

By  the  surpassing  might  of  loyalty 

To  God  and  duty,  to  the  truth  and  right 

And  sacred  claim  of  woman's  purity. 

What  acts  she  further  did,  what  other  wars 
She  warred  with  her  fond  heart,  which  ever  yearned 
In  deathless  love  and  pity  over  him, 
The  captive  king,  who  sold  his  nobleness 
For  Esau's  portion  served  in  royal  state, 
And  lost  a  treasure  that  outweighed  the  world  ; 
What  paths  of  usefulness  she  meekly  trod, 
So  gaining  meetness  for  that  higher  sphere 
Where  faithfulness  shall  wear  its  rightful  crown  ; 
And  how  such  winning  grace  her  life  illumed 
As  many  a  wanderer  lured  from  devious  ways, 
To  follow  where  her  upward  footprints  led  ; 
And  how  her  unextinguished  memory 
Wrought  with  the  recreant  king,  and  held  him  back 
From  deeper  plunges  into  fatal  depths, 
And  proved  at  last  the  clue  wherewith  he  found 
A  homeward  way,  through  wildering  labyrinths, 
To  his  forsaken  God,  then  gave  to  him — 
When  from  his  vileness  purged — the  elements 
From  which,  with  heavenly  help,  his  guided  hand 


158  SULAMITH. 

That  wondrous  poem  penned,  which  celebrates 

The  beauty,  blessedness  and  sanctity 

Alike  of  earthly  and  of  heavenly  love  : — 

All  these,  and  what  beside,  that  Sulamith 

Did  first  and  last,  behold,  are  they  not  written 

By  the  Recording  Angel  in  the  book 

Which  shall  be  opened  on  that  Day  of  days, 

The  light  of  which  shall  show  how  many  a  name, 

Of  men  forgotten,  leads  the  shining  lists 

Of  martyr-spirits,   unto  whom  the  world, 

That  is  not  worthy  of  them,  owes  its  best  ? 


Nigftt. 

Not  lost  is  all  the  glory  of  the  light 
When  day  is  ended,  and  the  chariot 
Of  its  illustrious  king  has  downward  rolled, 
Below  the  far  horizon's  purple  rim. 
L/ong  lingers,  on  the  westward  slope,  the  glow 
Caught  from  its  burning  wheels.     O'er  land  and  sea 
The  veil  of  twilight,  softly  luminous, 
To  nature's  features  lends  a  grace  unknown 
Beneath  the  glaring  brightness  of  the  day  ; 
And,  as  the  shadows  deepen,  stars  steal  out, 
And  grow  in  radiance  and  multiply, 
Until  they  glitter  from  the  darkened  sky 
Like  jewels  gleaming  on  the  sable  brow 
Of  Ethiopian  queen.     The  silvery  moon 
Shines  in  her  crescent  beauty,  chastely  cold ; 
Or  with  her  full-orbed  splendor  floods  the  world  ; 
Or,  through  the  moonless  air  the  meteor  sweeps, 
With  self-consuming  blaze  that  pales  the  stars ; 
Or  comet-visitants,  from  realms  remote, 
With  trains  magnificent  that  mark  their  state, 

159 


160  SULAMITH. 


Speed  their  erratic  flight  past  wondering  worlds  ; 

Or  the  aurora,  born  amid  the  floes 

Of  polar  seas,  flames  on  the  northern  sky, 

And  darts  its  rose- tinged  streaks  from  north  to  south, 

Or,  with  swift  spreading  of  its  crimson  waves, 

Suffuses  all  the  heavens  and  snow-clad  earth  : — 

Thus  ofttimes  reigns  the  brilliance  of  the  night, 

From  fading  twilight  until  glimmering  dawn. 


XIV. 
VANITY    OF    VANITIES. 

OR  Solomon  the  brief  bright  day  of  love 
And  innocence  was  past.     And  now  the  night 
Of  evil  dominating  over  good 
Had  its  beginnings,  which  were  doomed  to  grow 
Till  they  should  deepen  into  midnight  gloom. 

But  long  with  him  it  seemed,  as  in  the  lands 
Far  northward,  when,  behind  their  icy  cliffs, 
The  sun  has  scarcely  more  than  disappeared, 
And,  as  in  flight  suspended,  from  below 
The  gleaming  steep  illumes  the  western  sky ; 
So  making  twilight,  such  as  untaught  eyes 
Might  easily  mistake  for  shadowed  day. 

The  brightness  of  his  mighty  intellect 
Had  suffered  no  eclipse.     His  eye,  undimmed, 
Pierced  to  the  hidden  substances  of  things, 

11  161 


162  SULAMITH. 


And  made  discrimination,  clear  and  keen, 
Between  the  chaff  and  wheat,   the  dross  and  gold. 
God's  gift  of  wisdom  still  was  unrevoked, 
And  with  his  culture  grew,  till  it  excelled 
Even  that  by  Egypt  treasured  and  the  East, 
Through  ages  grown.     Phrases  proverbial, 
Compact  and  terse,  true  wisdom's  garnered  seed 
Whose  deathless  germs  are  now  wide-branching  trees, 
On  fruits  of  which  when  men  or  nations  feed 
They  grow  to  greatness, — thousands  such  as  these 
By  him  were  wrought,  and  thousands  more  of  songs 
Flowed  from  his  pen.     Of  trees  he  also  spake, 
From  Lebanon's  cedar  to  the  hyssop  plant 
That  draws  its  humbler  growth  from  crevices 
Of  moldering,  moss-grown  walls  ;  and  of  all  beasts 
And  birds  and  fishes,  and  of  creeping  things. 
A  pioneer  of  science  far  renowned  ! 
Around  him  gathered  peoples  of  all  lands, 
Attracted  by  his  wisdom's  widening  fame  ; 
And  kings  and  queens  made  weary  pilgrimage 
To  see  and  hear  this  marvel  of  their  kind. 

No  idle  dreamer  even  of  great  dreams, 
Nor  fruitless  theorist  was  Solomon. 


VANITY    OF    VANITIES.  163 

His  high  conceptions  wrought  effectively 

In  works  of  art  or  use  beneficent, 

That  were  the  pride  of  Israel  and  drew 

The  world's  admiring  gaze.     Of  these  first,  chief, 

The  glorious  Temple — from  foundation  stones 

To  golden  pinnacles  that  skyward  flamed — 

In  sacred  silence  magic-like  arose, 

A  monument  of  richest,  brightest,  best, 

To  speak  of  God  transcendent  over  all. 

Then  Ophel's  brow  received  its  palace-crown  ; 

Then  massive  Millo,  and  the  stately  tower 

Of  David's  House,  hung  round  with  brazen  shields, 

All  shields  of  mighty  men.     The  city  wall 

Rose  to  defiant  height,  and  through  the  land, 

On  ever)r  route  of  commerce  or  where  foes 

Might  access  find,  were  frowning  fortresses — 

On  the  Damascus  road  in  Lebanon, 

Hard  by  the  summer-palace  beautiful 

With  pillared  porches,  all  of  cedar  wrought ; 

Hazon  that  threatening  towered  above  Merom  ; 

Baalath,  and  Beth-Horon's  guarded  pass, 

To  stem  invasion  pouring  from  the  sea. 

And,  quickened  into  life  by  growing  thrift 

And  enterprise,  such  cities  had  their  birth 


164  SULAMITH. 


As  Tadmor,  in  the  oasis  of  palms, 

Far  out  upon  the  Desert's  arid  way 

Through  which  the  trade  of  Egypt  northward  flowed, 

Till  intercepted  by  this  new-made  mart 

That  stood  and  flourished  for  a  thousand  years. 

Orchards  and  vineyards ;  parks  with  planted  trees 

For  fruit  and  beauty  and  delicious  shade  ; 

And  fountains  which,  with  never-ceasing  flow, 

Kept  moist  and  cool  what  else  were  torrid  air ; 

Great  aqueducts  that  poured  unfailing  streams 

Into  vast  reservoirs  of  masonry, 

That  lapsing  ages  leave  unworn, — all  these 

Were  Solomon's  embodied  thoughts,  and  proofs 

That  he  was  no  enervate  Sybarite, 

But  greatly  practical  as  greatly  wise. 

Staunch  merchant  ships  at  Ezion  Geber  built 
By  skilled  Phenician  workmen,  stoutly  manned 
By  sailors  reared  in  Dan  and   Zebulon, 
Made  daring  voyages  to  far-off  lands, — 
To  Tarshish  for  its  precious  metals  famed, 
To  Ophir  where  was  mined  the  finest  gold, 
To  mouths  of  Indus  rich  in  sandal  wood, 
Even  to  Afrique  coasts  whence  novel  freights 


VANITY    OF    VANITIES.  165 


Of  ivory,  ebony  and  apes  were  brought  ; 

And  when,  each  third  year  from  their  setting  sail, 

The  strained  and  shattered  but  enduring  craft 

Returned,  full-laden,  stately  caravans 

Their   costly  cargoes  wearily  conveyed 

Through  gathering  crowds  to  ceaseless  wonder  stirred. 

So  did  these  ever  widening,  deepening  streams 

Of  commerce  flow  and  pour  their  shining  floods, 

That  gold  grew  plentiful  as  scattered  stones 

Upon  the  city  street,  and  silver  ceased 

To  be  accounted  of  in  Israel. 

The  culminating  glory  of  the  land, 
As  promised,   now  was  reached.     Its  boundaries 
Unto  Orontes  stretched  from  the  Red  Sea, 
And  from  the  western  waves  to  where  yet  flows 
Euphrates,  with  its  proud,  sad   memories 
Of  Eden-flowers  that  on  its  banks  once  bloomed. 

Thus  wide  the  realm  which  David's  conquests 

gave 

To  Solomon.     And,  through  its  length  and  breadth, 
Under  his  sway  benign  and  merciful, 
Yet  strong  to  cope  with  evil,  Israel 


166  SULAMITH. 


And  Judah  dwelt  in  concord  undisturbed  ; 
And  every  man  was  safe  beneath  the  vine 
And  fig  tree  that  embowered  his  happy  home. 
His  power  deliverance  brought  to  the  oppressed, 
And  to  the  poor  and  needy  swift  relief ; 
The  wronged,  who  had  no  helper,  he  redeemed 
From  violence,  and  precious  in  his  sight 
Was  ever  held  the  blood  of  innocence. 

Two  nameless  women  once  before  him  came, 
Bringing  an  infant  boy,  of  which  each  claimed 
To  be  the  mother.     Each  her  story  told, 
Equally  positive  and  equally 

Devoid  of  proof.      "A  sword  !"    the  monarch  cried  ; 
And  forthwith  flashed  before  the  eyes  of  all 
The  unsheathed  weapon.     Then  King  Solomon 
His  sentence  curtly  gave  :  The  headsman's  sword 
Should  equitably  cleave  the  child  in  twain, 
And  to  each  claimant  duly  give  her  half. 
One,  with  pale  face  and  look  of  agony, 
As  though  the  glittering  blade  had  pierced  her  heart, 
Shrieked  out,    "Not  so  !     In  no  wise  slay  the  child, 
Let  it  be  hers."     But,  to  the  king's  decree, 
The  other  promptly  signified  assent. 


VANITY    OF    VANITIES.  167 


And  unto  her  whose  yearning  motherhood 
Had  leapt  to  save  her  little  one  from  death, 
Though  from  her  bosom  reft,  the  child  was  given. 

Thus  did  the  wondrous  wisdom  of  the  king 
Shed  piercing  light  on  depths  of  hidden  wrong, 
That  killed  its  roots  ere  from  them  rankly  sprang 
The  noxious  growth  of  violence  and  crime. 
So  human  life  well  guarded,  nurtured  well, 
Had  matchless,  marvelous  development. 
Judah  and  Israel  were  many,  even  as  sand 
On  the  sea  shore  for  multitude,  eating 
And  drinking  merrily,  day  by  day ; 
And  to  the  land  had  come  its  golden  age — 
Its  first  and  last,  of  two-score  fleeting  years. 

But,  ah,  in  him  to  whose  illustrious  reign, 
Of  wisdom,  peacefulness,  benignity, 
The  age's  glory,  under  God,  was  due, 
The  gold  that  gave  it  lustre  had  been  dimmed, 
And  changed  the  most  fine  gold — his  honor,  truth 
And  purposed  purity  of  heart  and  life. 
But  still  so  slightly  or  so  slowly  wrought 
The  subtle  tarnishing,  that  common  eyes 


168  SULAM1TH. 


Were  dazzled,  blinded  long ;  and  not  a  breath 

Of  popular  dispraise  detracted  aught 

From  the  transcendent  splendor  of  his  fame. 

One  sole  and  burdening  sense  of  wrongfulness 
Upon  the  spirit  of  the  monarch  weighed. 
It  was  not  an  accusing  consciousness 
Of  vassalage  to  lusts,   unworthy  held 
Of  man's  supremacy  above  the  brute  ; 
For  not  as  yet  his  self-asserting  soul 
Had  fully  owned  so  gross  a  mastery. 
Nor  was  it  that,  in  part  from  policy, 
In  part  from  personal  preference,  he  had  made 
Fair  Naamah  his  bride,  and  not  alone 
In  empty  form  and  name.     For  not  a  doubt 
Disturbed  his  conscience  of  the  lawfulness 
Of  this,  or  other  added  marriages, 
Which  he  might  make,  in  strict  conformity 
To  precedents  by  him  deemed  questionless. 

The  self-abasing,  torturing  memory 
That  rankling  dwelt  within  him  night  and  day, 
Was  of  his  kingly  word  to  Sulamith 
Trodden  so  shamefully  beneath  his  feet, 


VANITY    OF    VANITIES.  169 


In  his  mad  haste  to  reach  the  tempting  fruit 
That  proved  but  ashes  to  his  sickened  taste. 
And  ever  to  his  soul  her  image  shone 
In  fadeless,  stainless  beauty,  as  a  star 
Shines  on  the  far  sky,  inaccessible. 
And  oft  he  lashed,  with  bitter,  burning  scorn, 
His  wretched  folly  that,  for  nothingness, 
Had  forfeited  a  prize  which  to  his  heart 
Was  more  than  all  the  grandeur  and  renown 
Of  Israel's  glorious  kingdom  or  a  world's  ! 

The  childlike  loveliness  of  Naamah, 
Her  graceful  form  and  gleaming,  golden  hair, 
And  face  with  gladness  often  lit,  and  yet 
At  times  half  shadowed  with  a  wistful  ness 
That  touched  all  hearts  with  its  appealing  grace, 
Had  much  of  fascination  for  the  king  ; 
And,  but  that  his  one  quenchless  passion  swayed 
His  heart  exclusively,  it  might  at  last 
Have  wrought  in  him  the  manly  tenderness 
That  often  answers  well  for  manly  love. 
Her  voiceless  eloquence  of  looks  and  smiles 
Made  large  amends  for  scantiness  of  speech  ; 
And  long  it  seemed  enough  for  Solomon, 


170  SULAMITH. 


That  sense  of  beauty,  heart  and  sight  were  charmed, 
Though  for  his  ear  her  voice  no  thrilling  spell 
Of  music  wrought  ;  nor  flash  of  intellect, 
Nor  glowing  thought  responsive  matched  the  light 
And  warmth  which  had  their  dwelling  place  in  him. 

It  was  as  if  were  paired  a  sea's  expanse 
Of  mighty  pulsing  tides  and  fathomless, 
And  an  adjacent  pool,  of  grassy  marge, 
Reflecting  from  the  brightness  of  its  face 
The  glories  of  the  ever  changing  sky  ; 
Rippled  and  dimpled  by  the  sportive  breeze, 
But  by  the  stormy  winds,  that  leave  unstirred 
The  vast  sea-depths,  its  shallowness  exposed  ; 
Its  waters  to  the  bottom  lightly  swept ; 
So  laying  bare,  to  vex  the  gazer's  eye, 
The  unsightly  slime  and  mire  that  lay  concealed 
Beneath  the  glassy  sheen,  through  sunny  hours. 

Long  lingered  the  illusion,  yet  too  soon 
For  peace  of  Solomon  the  tempest  came  ; 
And  all  the  surface  brightness,  which  had  cheered 
At  times  his  gloom  and  loneliness  of  soul, 
Fled  from  the  darkening  face  of  Naamah. 


VANITY    OF    VANITIES.  171 


From  her  now  livid  lips  a  stream  of  words, 

In  shrillest  discords,  freely,  fiercely  flowed. 

The  shallows  of  her  soul  were  broken  up, 

And,  to  the  shocked,  bewildered  king,  were  bared 

The  unsuspected  filth  and  odiousness 

Of  heathen  grossness,  littleness  and  spite 

Her  beauty's  brightness  until  then  had  veiled. 

The  burst  of  rage  which,  like  a  bitter  blast, 
Blighted  the  bloom  and  beauty  of  her.  face, 
And  spoiled  its  fascination  for  the  king, 
Had  weighty  cause  :    Her  love  for  Solomon 
Had  proved  of  passionate  intensity, 
Ere  since  her  pulses  fluttered  at  the  sight 
Of  his  majestic  form,  his  smile  benign 
Of  welcome  that  dispelled  her  maiden  fears, 
When  through  his  palace-gate  she  first  had  passed, 
A  stranger-bride  ;    and,   in  her  narrow  heart — 
With  this  one  dominating  sentiment 
Entwined,  identified — the  purpose  grew 
To  win  and  keep  the  highest  place  in  his, 
To  be  his  wife  of  wives,  his  queen  of  queens  ; 
Nor,  since  the  noiseless  flight  of  Sulamith, 
Had  aught  of  serious  hindrance  come  between 


172  SULAMITH. 


Her  womanly  ambition  and  its  aim. 
The  king  had  seemed  to  care  for  none  beside  ; 
And  blissful  motherhood  had  early  crowned 
Her  tenderest  wish,  and  sweet  assurance  given 
Of  full  fruition  to  her  proudest  hope. 

The  cloud  which,  even  at  the  noontide  hour 
Of  her  elation,  darkened  all  her  sky, 
Was  from  the  advent,  loudly  heralded, 
Of  Pharaoh's, daughter,  who  had  been  espoused 
To  Solomon,  and  so  become  the  bond 
Which  in  a  close  alliance  now  should  hold 
The  might  of  Egypt  and  of  Israel. 
With  royal  equipage  and  stateliness, 
That  totally  eclipsed  the  pageantries 
Of  all  her  predecessors,  she  had  come, 
Greeted  with  welcoming  festivities 
That  testified  the  pleasure  of  the  king. 

The  disenchanting  wrath  of  Naamah — 
For  her  ill-timed — had  snapt  the  fragile  bond, 
Dissolved  the  thralling  spell,  wherewith  her  charms 
First  strongly  drew,  then  held  him  long  her  own. 
Hence  when  his  now  no  longer  dazzled  eyes 


VANITY    OF    VANITIES.  173 


Gazed  on  the  Egyptian's  regal  form  and  mien, 
Her  darkly  brilliant  beauty — star-lit  night ! — 
Her  languid  eyes,  magnetic  with  the  power 
Of  slumbering  passion, — his  unanchored  heart 
Drifted  once  more,  unhindered,  on  the  tides 
Which,  at  the  new  attraction,  swelled  and  flowed. 

So  had  it  come  to  pass  that  Naamah 
Thus  self-deposed  from  her  supremacy — 
This  statelier  daughter  of  a  mightier  king, 
Dowered  with  a  city's  site,  which  Pharaoh, 
Her  royal  sire  had  wrested  from  the  hands 
Of  its  Phenician  habitants,  became 
Chiefest  among  the  wives  of  Solomon ; 
And,  as  a  crowned  queen,  she  shared  alike 
His  grandeur  and  his  royal  eminence. 

But,  from  her  exaltation,  speedily, 
A  great,  and  in  the  end,   disastrous  change 
Passed  o'er  the  monarchy  and  all  the  land. 
The  simpler  usages  of  purer  times, 
Before  this  alien  spirit   now  enthroned, 
Gave  way,  and  left  an  ever  widening  place 
To  pomp  and  artificiality, 


174  SULAM1TH. 


And  kindred  vices  of  extravagance, 

That,  from  the  seeds  of  evil,  earlier  sown, 

Now  rankly  grew  and  bore  their  baneful  fruits. 

And  most,  within  the  heart  of  Solomon, 

What  least  was  noble  sprang  to  perilous  strength 

Under  the  fostering  influence  to  which 

He  made  surrender,  won  by  sensuous  charms, 

And  wrought  upon  by  unsuspected  arts, 

Coupled  with  wilfulness  too  well  concealed. 

A  deeper  taint,  a  darker,  deadlier  stain 
At  length  had  touched  the  conscience  of  the  king, 
Through  his  affinity  with  her  who  came 
From  Egypt,  most  prolific  of  all  lands 
In  idols  and  their  zealous  votaries. 
True,  outwardly,  she  oft  had  joined  with  him 
In  sacrificial  rites  and  services 
That  owned  the  God  of  Israel  God  alone : 
But  all  the  while — long  hidden  from  the  eyes 
Of  Solomon,  within  a  deep  recess, 
A  secret  chamber  of  her  palace-home — 
She  daily  bowed  her  knee  before  a  shrine 
At  which  the  homage  of  her  soul  was  paid 
To  a  sincerely  worshiped  deity — 


VANITY    OF    VANITIES. 


A  golden  Isis,  woman-like  in  form, 

With  sistrum  in  her  hand,  her  horned  brow 

Crowned  with  a  wreath  of  sacred  Lotus  flowers  ! 

At  last  to  Solomon,  by  chance,  had  come 
Unwelcomed  knowledge  of  the  shocking  truth, 
That  she  who  in  his  bosom  slept,  and  sat 
With  him  on  Israel's  throne,   thus  secretly 
In  adoration  bent  before  the  shrine 
Of  an  Egyptian  idol.     Grief  and  shame 
Unutterable,  swelled  within  his  heart 
At  the  discovery ;  for  not  as  yet 
Was  he-  disloyal,  even  in  his  thought, 
To  Israel's  King  of  kings,  his  father's  God, 
In  whose  sole  name  he  reigned,  and  ministered 
As  royal  priest  in  all  the  services 
That  to  His  altar  and  His  house  pertained. 
But,  ah,  the  flaming  zeal  that  once  had  blazed 
To  purge  such  desecrating  stain,   to  avenge 
Such  insult  to  Jehovah  and  the  place 
His  presence  hallowed,  brightly  glowed  no  more- 
Was  but  the  flickering  spark  upon  the  coal 
That  dies  and  blackens  in  the  smothering  damps 
Of  waning  faith,  decaying  piety. 


176  SULAMITH. 


A  compromise  with  conscience  was  the  most 
That  its  enfeebled  life  at  length  secured ; 
A  base  connivance  with  the  deadly  wrong  ; 
For  still  the  abomination  was  endured, 
And  not  a  word  he  spake  that  would  displease 
The  qiieen,  whose  blended  charms  and  .artifice 
Held  him  no  less  submissively  enthralled. 

But  though  the  outrage  still    should   live  and 

thrive, 

Yet  should  its  loathed  presence  violate 
No  more,  thereafter,  Zion's  sacredness. 
A  stately,   costly  palace  should  be  reared 
On  ground  less  holy,   where,  with  freer  range 
And  greater  privacy,  she  might  thenceforth 
Do  all  her  pleasure,  as  became  a  queen. 

Thus,  step  by  step,  with  slow  but  sure  descent, 
The  king  had  reached  a  level  sadly  low 
Compared  with  that  from  which  his  reign  began ; 
And  when  the  years,  that  ever  swifter  flew, 
Had  brought  to  him — long  busied  and  absorbed 
With  vast  designs  that  kept  his  soul  enlarged, 
And  exercised  its  nobler  faculties — 


VANITY    OF    VANITIES,  177 


Ensuing  leisure,  ease  and  luxury, 
Then,  prompt  to  hail  their  opportunity, 
The  hovering  vices  that  had  nearer  drawn, 
Swooped    on    their    destined    prey,    the    monarch's 

heart, 
So  feebly  guarded,  so  unoccupied  ! 

He  who    had    drank    deep  draughts  of  loVe's 

delight 

From  early  Eden-fountains  undefiled  ; 
He  who  had  known  the  satisfying  bliss 
Of  fellowship  congenial,  soul  with  soul, 
Feeling,  and  thought  respondent,  each  to  each, 
And  mated  equally,  had  vainly  sought 
For  fresh  experience  of  such  blessedness  ; 
And  vainly  dreamed  that  he  might  haply  find, 
In  new  relationships,  what  yet  should  fill 
The  void  within  him  by  his  folly  wrought. 

A  hollow,  disappointed,  restless  heart 
Had  come  to  be  the  doom  of  Solomon  ; 
And  his  were  soon  foretokenings  of  a  time, 
Not  distant,  when  satiety  should  be 
The  burden  of  that  heart,   the  bitter   end 

12 


178  SULAMITH. 

Of  all  to  which  its  craving  and  its  pah; 

Impelled  him.     And  not  now,  as  in  the  past, 

Did  will  or  conscience  longer  hold  in  check 

The  animal  which  threatened  to  outgrow 

The  ever  dwindling  soul.     Nor  failed  the  plea, 

Ancient  and  plausible  and  often  made 

For  loosened  rein  on  fleshly  appetite, 

In  lawless  search  of  wisdom, — "wisdom  found," 

So  reasoned  he,    ' '  in  freer,  wider  range 

Of  living,  and  a  fuller  knowledge  to  be  gained 

By  closer  intercourse  with  human  kind. 

Not  sight  alone  of  glowing  fruits  that  hung 

On  trees  forbidden,  but  the  actual  taste, 

Would  true  acquaintance  of  their  nature  give." 

And  thus,  with  calculation  shrewd  and  cool, 
He  gave  his  manhood's  ripening  and  strength 
To  wine's  exhilaration,  and  laid  hold 
On  human  folly,  with  the  fond  pretense 
Of  thereby  drawing  forth  disclosures  new, 
For  future  furtherance  of  the  good  of  man. 
And  all  voluptuous  pleasures  he  would  prove 
And  accurately  weigh,  and  unto  each 
Assign  its  proper  valuation.     Hence 


VANITY    OF    VANITIES.  179 


Whatever  sight  of  beauty  charmed  his  eyes, 

Or  joy  of  taste  or  sense  allured  his  heart, 

From  this — unquestioning  either  of  the  right 

Or  wrong — his  hands  were  not  withheld  ; 

And,   in  the  prosecution  of  his  search, 

Its  last  and  worst  extreme  of  rash  adventure, 

To  trace  the  reasons  recondite  of  things, 

To  know  what  madness  and  what  wickedness 

Oft  dwell  in  hearts  of  men,  and  mold  their  lives 

Into  the  monster  shapes  of  crime  and  woe 

That  move  to  horror  or  that  melt  to  tears, 

He  found — how  little  wonder  that  he  found  ! — 

Perverted  woman's  sad  supremacy 

Among  the  evil  ;  bitterer  than  death 

Her  heart  of  snares  and  nets ;  her  soft,  fair  hands 

Bands  irresistible  that  captive  lead 

Too  willingly  beguiled  and  ruined  men. 

Ah  !  vivisectionist  of  human  souls, 
At  what  a  cost  thy  added  lore  is  gained, 
Or  noblest  skill  or  art  is  perfected, 
To  hapless  victims  keenly  sensitive,, 
Who  bleed  and  writhe  in  thine  unfaltering  hands. 
Oh  !  cruel  sharpness  of  the  knife  wrhich  lays 


180  SULAMITH. 


All  bare  the  quivering  nerve,  that  darts  its  thrills 

Of  mortal  anguish  to  the  conscious  brain, 

Or  pierces  to  the  quick  of  shrinking  hearts 

To  find  their  deepest  secrets,  which,  henceforth, 

Assorted,  labeled,  have  conspicuous  place 

In  cabinets  of  metaphysic  sage, 

Or,  by  the  hand  of  genius  deftly  wrought, 

Give  fascinating  power  and  vividness 

To  painter's  picture  or  to  poet's  dream. 

But  eminently  hapless  and  undone 
Is  woman,  dowered  with  rare  capacities 
Of  pain  and  pleasure,  woe  and  blessedness — 
Woman,  with  springs  unfathomed  in  her  breast 
Of  tender  sweetness  and  of  matchless  love, 
Whenever  thus  unscrupulously  made 
Mere  ministress  of  cold  philosophy, 
Or  ruthless  art,  or — worse  immeasurably — 
The  plaything,  and  the  victim  in  the  end, 
Of  selfish  sensualist,  who  smiles  and  slays 
That  which  in  woman's  life  is  sacredest. 

The  sleepless  Nemesis  that  evermore 
Implacably  avenges  womanhood 


VANITY    OF    VANITIES.  181 


Thus  cruelly  wronged,  with  whips  of  scorpions, 

Plied  by  his  victims,  scourged  the  offending  king. 

From  blighted  innocence  its  tender  bloom 

And  beauty  fled.     The  brightness  of  its  joy, 

Its  sparkling  merriment,  its  ringing  songs, 

Were  darkened,  silenced,  by  the  gathering  storms 

Of  clashing  rivalries  irrepressible, 

That  in  the  thronged  harem  ever  dwell. 

And,  in  that  sensuous  atmosphere,  surcharged 

With  stimulated  passions  gross  and  low, 

The  deadly  crop,  that  sowing  to  the  flesh 

Fails  not  to  yield,   was  early  harvested  ; 

All  evil  fermentations  swiftly  wrought ; 

And  what  was  womanly  sweetness  turned,  at  last, 

To  wormwood  on  the  lips  of  Solomon. 

Unhappiest  of  kings !  for  lo,  the  crown 
Of  his  pre-eminence  was  now  a  crown 
Of  thorns, — keen  self-accusings, — and  in  wreathed 
With  twining,  hissing  serpents  of  remorse, 
That  brooding  memories  hatched  ceaselessly 
Within  his  tortured  brain. 


182  SULAMITH. 


And  what  to  him 

Were  gaudy  flowers  that  in  his  palace  bloomed, 
And  breathed  rank  odors,  as  from  oozy  sod 
And  heavy,   fetid  air? — what  were  they  all 
To  him  who  saw  in  memory's  softened  light 
That  one  sweet,  regal  lily  of  the  vale, 
Unstained  as  falling  snowflake — thought  of  God, 
In  fairest  earthly  vesture  fitly  clad — 
For  him,  for  him  alone,  but  which  his  hand, 
Made  reckless  by  the  folly  of  his  heart, 
In  mad  exchange  for  these  had  flung  away? 

A  smaller  soul  than  that  of  Solomon 
Could  not  have  known  the  utter  emptiness 
Which — after  all  this  desperate  endeavor, 
With  whatsoe'er  his  subject  realm,  or  wealth 
Of  distant  lands  by  commerce  brought  could  give, 
Or  royal  power  command,  to  fill  the  void — 
Left  him  as  one  who  feeds  upon  the  wind. 
A  nature  less  capacious  might  have  found 
Its  narrowness  replete  and  satisfied 
With  such  magnificence  of  kingly  state, 
Such  victories  of  peace,  such  growing  power, 
And  widening  empire,  and  unruffled  flow 


VANITY    OF    VANITIES.  183 


Of  personal  and  national  events 

As  signalized  this  favored  monarch's  reign  ; 

One  more  ignobly,  grossly  sensual, 

In  such  unstinted  luxury,  such  range 

Of  license  limitless,  even  as  an  ox 

In  fenceless  pasture  grazing, — surfeiting 

Thus  brutally  his  animal  appetite — 

A  brute's  contentment  might  have  well  enjoyed, 

Nor  cherished  wish  or  care  for  aught  beyond. 

But  oh,  not  so  with  soul  like  Solomon's  ; 

For  it  had  largeness  ample  as  the  shore 

That  with  its  sandy,  shelving  beach  wave-worn, 

Or  stretch  of  coast,  rock-bound  or  mountainous, 

Encompasses  the  vastness  of  a  sea. 

And  when  all  royal  might  and  majesty, 

All  riches  gathered  from  the  land  and  main, 

All  grand  achievements  wrought  or  glories  won, 

Or  triumphs  proud  of  intellect  or  art, 

Or  stores  of  wisdom  more  than  rubies  prized, 

Or  sensuous  joys,  or  beauty's  witchery, 

Or  wine's  enchantment,  or  the  reveler's  mirth, — 

When  all  these  countless  rivers  of  delight 

Had  flowed  into  this  sea,  it  was  not  full. 

This  mighty  soul's  infinitude  ! — oh,  still 


184 


SULAMITH. 


Its  hollowness  resounded,  night  and  day, 
With  outcries  of  unsatisfied  desire, 
Plaints  of  a  weary,  satiated  heart, 
Sickened  and  hopeless,  sighing  evermore 
Like  ocean's  moaning  winds  that  drear  refrain 
VANITY!  VANITIES!  ALL  is  VANITY! 


. 

- 


(UR 


As  in  my  view,  O  hurrying  years  ! 
The  havoc  ye  have  wrought  appears, 
Mine  eyes  o'erflow  with  bitter  tears. 

Your  robber  hands,  of  all  the  grace 
Of  rounded  form  and  blooming  face, 
Have  left,  alas,  no  lingering  trace. 

How  fair  was  earth  when  life  was  new  ; 
How  green  the  fields,   the  skies  how  blue  ! 
What  spring  flowers,  gemmed  with  morning  dew  ! 

A  magic  touch  the  past  unseals, 
Its  beauty  and  its  bliss  reveals  ; 
But  lo,  a  flash  of  flying  wheels,  — 

The  chariot  wheels  of  Time,   that  bear 

From  rifled  youth  its  treasures  rare. 

All  gone  ;    naught  left  but  age  and  care. 

185 


186  SULAMITH. 


Vainly  we  pray,  or  vainly  weep, 
And  strive  our  best  beloved  to  keep ; 
Upon  them  falls  the  dreamless  sleep. 

The  hero's  sword  has  gathered  rust, 
The  arm  that  wielded  it  is  dust, 
Deceived  or  failed  his  high  heart's  trust. 

Rain  on,  ye  tears  of  bitterest  ruth, 

For  more  than  faded,  vanished  youth, — 

Soiled  innocence,  lost  God  and  truth  ! 

Much  still  were  mine,   though  all  beside 
Were  from  me  swept,  as  on  the  tide 
Of  rivers  swift  that  seaward  glide, 
Should  faith  and  hope  and  love  abide. 


7RT 


XV. 
SIN    AND    SORROW. 

|HE  curse    that    comes  to   him    to   whom    the 

world, 

Whether  of  sense  or  intellect  or  art, 
Has  grown  to  be  his  all,  had  settled  down 
Upon  the  mind  and  soul  of  Solomon. 
Even  the  visible  beauty  of  the  earth 
And  sea  and  sky  took  on  a  duller  hue ; 
And  nature  more  and  more  had  come  to  be 
But  a  dead  organism,  hard  and  cold, 
From  which  had  fled  the  all-pervading  Soul, 
That  erst,  with  its  felt  immanence,  had  awed 
And  swayed  him,  or  his  deepest  feelings  stirred 
To  tenderness  and  tears.     The  face  and  form 
Of  Sulamith  had  faded,  and  no  more 
Brought  back  the  vanished  rapture  to  his  dreams. 
And — deepest  of  all  woes  ! — as  wildly  far 
This  royal  wanderer  still  darkly  strayed 

187 


188  SULAMITH. 


Into  the  paths  of  worldliness  and  sin. — 

As  thus  unhappy,  guilty  Solomon 

From  God  departed,  even  so  did  God, 

In  holy  grief  and  righteousness,  withdraw 

Not  solely  from  the  offender's  consciousness, 

But  from  the  hallowed  symbols  which  before 

Were  visibly  with  His  dread  presence  fraught. 

Within  the  High  Priest's  vesture  idly  shone 

Urim  and  Thummim,  that  no  longer  flashed 

With  signal  lights  unearthly  in  response 

To  such  as  asked  what  God  would  have  them  do 

And,  from  the  temple's  holiest  recess, 

Above  the  Ark,  between  the  Cherubim, 

The  cloud  that  with  shekinah  blazed  was  gone. 

Prophetic  vision  ceased.     No  more  by  dreams, 

As  twice  to  Solomon  in  happier  years, 

When  heart  and  ear  were  open  to  His  voice, 

Came  faintest  whisper  of  the  will   divine. 

Oh,  dreary  world  !  oh,  orphaned  universe  ! 
Oh,  blankness,  darkness  of  the  infinite  void  ! 
That  give  not  to  the  deepest,  highest  thought, 
Or  yield  not  unto  agonizing  prayer, 
The  God  dethroned  and  lost  through  unbelief; 


SIN  AND    SORROW.  189 


Or  who  from  chosen  sin  incorrigible 

Has  hid  at  last  the  brightness  of  His  face. 

Sin  willfully  cherished,  breeding  unbelief, 
Was  that  which  to  the  sense  of  Solomon, 
And  even  to  his  mighty  intellect, 
In  all  its  grasp  immense  and  upward  reach, 
Had  banished  God  from  thought  and   temple-shrine, 
And  from  the  heavens  and  earth  which,  hitherto, 
Were  with  the  glory  of  His  presence  filled. 
And  now  as  one  who  gropes  in  starless  night, 
And  blindly  stumbles  on  familiar  paths, 
Growing  half  doubtful  of  realities 
Trusted,  without  a  question,   in  the  light, 
Believing  half  in  thronging  fantasies 
That  haunt  his  mind  bewildered — so  it  was, 
In  ever  growing  measure,  with  the  king. 

Then,  as  the  dreadful  void  grew  absolute, 
And  as  the  midnight  darkness  more  and  more 
Inwrapped  him,  and  his  last  faint,  wavering  prayer 
Of  dying  faith,  unheeded  or  unanswered, 
Sank  into  stifling  depths  of  voiceless  gloom, 
There  came  to  him  those  questionings  of  himself, 


190  SULAMITH. 


And  of  all  things,  yea,  even  of  the  One 
From  whom  are  all  things,  who  is  over  all, 
That  spring  inevitably  from  such  a   state 
Of  spiritual  night  and  loneliness, 
In  soul  so  great  as  that  of  Solomon. 

As  with  a  fevered  brain,  in  broken  dreams, 
Wearied,  but  resting  not,  he  vainly  strove 
To  pierce  the  mysteries  of  life  and  death; 
And  grappled  ceaselessly  with  problems  vast, 
And  ever  burdened  with  the  bootless  quest 
After  the  fathomless  cause  and  origin 
Of  evil  in  the  universe  of  God, 
Or  final  goal  and  issue  uurevealed 
Whereto  its  unarrested  progress  tends ; 
Or  miseries  great  and  multitudinous 
Of  human  life-1- the  heart's  deep  bitterness, 
Wrongs  unavenged,  strange  inequalities, 
And  seeming  emptiness  and  vanity 
Of  man's  endeavors,  even  of  his  gains, 
His  triumphs  and  his  joys,   when  comes  the  end 
Alike  to  him  who  smiles  and  him  who  weeps. 

And  so,   with  God  thus  dimly  far  removed, 


SIN  AND    SORROW.  191 


Or  veiled  in  frowning  clouds  impervious, 

And  hence  His  wisdom,  righteousness  and  love — 

The  explanations  ample,  infinite 

Of  all  that  else  bewilders  human  minds 

Or  tortures  doubting  hearts — no  longer  now 

Believed  in,  realized,  as  in  the  past, 

The  last,  worst  stage  of  his  apostacy 

Had  come  to  Solomon.     In  dark  despair, 

Most  of  himself  but  much  of  all  beside 

That  once  had  been  the  anchors  of  his  soul, 

He  drifted  out  upon  a  stormy  sea. 

And  not  as  ofttimes  fleetly  rides  unharmed 

The  light  unladen  barque,   like  bubble  tossed 

Upon  the  crested  wave.     Oh,  rather  he 

Was  as  the  huge  leviathan  of  the  deep, 

The  ocean  ship  of  towering  masts,  and  sails 

Wide  spread  to  all  the  winds,  and  freighted  full, 

Which,  with  the  shattering  force  its  might  insures, 

Strikes,   tempest-driven,  on  the   hidden  rocks, 

And  through  its  greatness  greater  ruin  finds. 

Alas,  thus  forcefully,  disastrously, 

This  one  whom  God  had  dowered  with  kingly  gifts, 

And  matchless  largeness  of  a  generous  heart, 

Having  thus  madly  thrust  away  the  conscience 


192  SULAMITH. 


That  once  had  held  him  to  the  truth  and  right, 
Made  shipwreck  of  his  faith  and  of  himself. 

For  God,  his  father's  God,  was,  at  the  most, 
Only  to  him  a  vague  abstraction  now  ; 
And  scarce  more  in  his  feeling  and  his  life 
Than  if  He  were  not.     And  it  seemed  to  him 
As  if  the  man  had  no  pre-eminence, 
In  nature,  dignity  or  destiny, 
Above  the  dumbly  grazing  animal  ; 
That  both  were  but  the  victims  or  the  sport 
Of  fate  or  time  and  chance,  whose  happenings 
Unguided  came  impartially  to  all  ; 
And  that  to  eat  and  drink  with  merry  heart, 
Forgetting  as  he  might  his  hastening  end, 
Was  after  all  the  highest  good  for  man. 

Such  atrophy  of  feeling  and  of  faith 
Brought  speedy  consequent  paralysis 
To  all  that  once  were  reigning  faculties 
Within  the  lofty  soul  of  Solomon. 
The  checks  that  lingering  wisdom  exercised 
Upon  his  errant  senses,   restive  grown, 
Were  ineffective  now  as  silken  threads 


SIN  AND    SORROW.  193 


In  palsied  hands,  on  necks  of  tameless  steeds. 
Hence,  urged  by  cravings  ever  unappeased, 
And  ever  more  insatiable  the  more 
The  husks  of  sense  were  vainly  fed  upon, 
He  plunged  with  reckless  self-abandonment 
Into  excesses,   ruinous  as  well 
To  outraged  body  as  polluted  soul. 
Mad  dissipations,  gross  indulgences 
Wrought  the  corroding  and  enfeebling  work 
Of  age  upon  him,  blanched  his  raven  hair 
And  dimmed  the  brightness  of  his  eagle  glance, 
Clouded  his  once  serene  and  regal  brow, 
And  robbed  his  mind  and  frame  of  energy, 
Ere  scarce  had  come  to  him  the  autumn-time 
That  else  had  only  brought  his  ripened  powers 
To  full  development  and  crowning  grace. 

Thus  apathetic  and.  indifferent 
To  what  was  true  or  false  or  right  or  wrong, 
His  very  manhood  broken  and  disrobed 
Of  all  but  mocking  show  of  royalty, 
He  reached,  with  tottering  steps,  the  farthest  stage 
Of  his  wild  wandering — crime  and  infamy. 


13 


194  SULAMITH. 


The  once  fair  Naamah,  now  long  misnamed, 
Had  noted,   with  keen-sighted  jealousy, 
The  exclusive  favor  manifestly  shown 
To  her  Egyptian  rival.     She  alone, 
Of  all  the  wives  of  Solomon,   was  free 
To  cherish  and  to  worship  openly 
Her  country's  gods.     Under  the  shadowing  groves 
Around  her  palace  gleamed  the  images 
Of  Isis  and  Osiris,  on  whose  altars 
Her  votive  offerings  were  duly  laid. 
But  Naamah  as  yet  had  vainly  plead 
Like  coveted  privilege  for  herself  and  for 
The  Ammonitish  women  in  her  train. 
Now,  in  her  cultured  cunning  (crowning  trait 
Of  feminine  intellect  in  harems  trained), 
She  saw  and  seized  her   opportunity  ; 
And  common  cause  she  made  with   other  wives 
Of  heathen  nations, — Hittites,  Moabites, 
Sidonians,  Tyrians — and  she  artfully 
Fomented  in  their  breasts  the  wide-spread  leaven 
Of  envious  discontent,  till,  even  beyond 
The  harem's  walls,  their  fellow  countrymen 
Who  thronged  Jerusalem  had  ere  long  caught 
The  stealthily  wafted  spirit  of  unrest, 


AND    SORROW.  195 


And  swelled  the  clamor,  now  no  more  repressed, 

For  equal  and  impartial  liberty, 

To  each  and  all,  of  worshiping  the  gods 

Their  nations  served,  or  such  as  pleased   them  best. 

Worn  with  excesses,  prematurely  old, 
Infirm  of  will,  unfortified  by  faith, 
Wearied  with  ceaseless  importunities, 
Most  by  his  wives'   caresses  weakly  won, 
The  craven  king  succumbed,  and  presently 
Upon  the  summit  of  the  hill  that  fronts 
Jehovah's  temple,   on  Moriah  throned, 
WTere  reared  the  altars  of  their   heathen  gods. 
Around  them  fast  they  flock  exultingly, 
And  in  the  sight  of  grieving  worshipers 
Of  Him  who  is  the  only  living  God, 
The  smoke  of  incense  and  of  sacrifice 
Gathers  like  frowning  clouds  upon  the  sky. 

Oh,  tell  it  not  in  Gath,   publish   it  not 
In  streets  of  Askelon,   that  he  who  lies, 
Self-ruined,  prostrate  in  this  depth  of  shame, 
Is  Israel's  king,  beloved  of  Israel's  God, 
Honored  and  crowned  with  wisdom's  starry  crown, 
Thus  tarnished  and  of  majesty  despoiled ! 


196  SULAMITH, 


For  now  on  Judah's  soil,  by  his  command, 
In  insolent  defiance,  on  the  heights 
That  overlook  Jerusalem,  behold, 
Moab's  abomination,   Chemosh  stood, 
And  loathed  Milcom  of  the  Ammonites — 
By  others  Molech  named — grim,  hideous, 
With  brazen  hands  outstretched  for  shrinking  babes, 
That  on  them  turned  to  ashes  in  the   blaze 
Of  the  fierce  furnace  which  beneath  them  burned. 
(This  only  in  his  native  lands  ;  as  yet 
Such  horror  was  un wrought  in  Israel.) 
Nor  distant  far  Sidonian  Ashteroth, 
Star-goddess,  otherwise  as  Venus  known 
Or  Aphrodite  born  of  the  sea-foam, 
The  fabled  queen  of  beauty  and  of  love  ; 
Worshiped  with  rites  that  oft  were  foully  stained, 
And  cruelly,  with  mingled  lust  and  blood. 

At  first  the  recreant  monarch  did  no  more 
Than  yield  his  royal  sanction,  listlessly, 
To  that  which  all  his  sluggish  feeling  held 
Repulsive  or  as  only  food  for  scorn  ; 
But  as,  from  day  to  day,  within  his  sight 
These  heathen  altars  blazed,  and  round    them  stood 


AND    SORROW.  197 


Or  bowed,  or  whirled  in  frantic  heathen  dance, 

Not  foreigners  alone  or  but  his  wives 

And  concubines,  but  also  Israelites — 

So  strangely  prone  to  leave  their  purer  shrines 

For  soul-besotting  idol  vanities, — 

As  at  a  distance  thus  the  king  looked  on, 

There  subtly  stole  upon  him  more   and  more 

The  fatal  fascination  which  inheres 

In  every  scene  of  evil  so  beheld, 

Without  the  counteraction  or  restraint 

That  steadfast  loyalty,  to  sacred  right 

And  God,  alone  assures.     Nor  was  it  long 

Before  his  erring  feet  had  carried  him 

Where  first  his  yielding  heart  had  led  the  way. 

Awhile  it  seemed  that,  at  this  nearer  view 
Of  rites  idolatrous,  abominable, 
His  soul  the  more  recoiled.     Relentlessly 
He  poured  contempt  upon  them  all,   nor  less 
Upon  himself,  his  weakness  and  his  folly 
To  which  the  wanton  insult,  by  them  cast 
On  Israel  and  Israel's  God,  was  due. 
Nor  ever,  in  the  future,  came  to  him 
Aught  but  a  dulling  sense  of  what  was   true, 


198  SULAMITH. 


Or  deepening  disregard  of  what  was  right. 
And  so,  in  utmost  climax  of  his  guilt 
And  impious  presumption,  recklessly, 
Knowing  but  heeding  not  the  wrong   he  did, 
At  last,  beside  his  wives  he  bowed  the  head 
With  holy  oil  anointed,  kissed  the  hand 
Before  Jehovah's  altars  oft  upraised, 
And,  with  such  forms  of  reverence  unfelt, 
Did  homage  to  the  gods  of  wood  and  stone  ! 

Once,  but  once  only.     On  that  dreadful  day,. 
Which  proved  a  very  midnight  to  his  soul, 
His  long  beclouded  intellect  grew  clear, 
And  all  its  torpid,  weakened  faculties 
Were  fitfully  stirred  to  unaccustomed  strength. 
Scarcely  had  passed  the  impulse  unforeseen, 
And  all  inexplicable  to  his  thought, 
That  made  him  what  alike  he  cursed  and  scorned, 
A  thrall  of  shrewish  wives  !  idolater  ! 
When  instantly,  as  by  the  lightning's  flash 
That  rives  the  darkness,  making  brightly  bare 
Whate'er  was  covered  by  its  pall  of  gloom, 
There  stood  revealed  to  his  adjudging  self 
What  now  he  was,  and  what  he  once  had  been, 


.9 IN  AND    SORROW.  199 

And  all  the  windings  of  the  downward  way, 
That  stretched  afar  between  the  bliss-fraught  past 
And  present  degradation  and  despair. 

The  night  that  closed  upon  that  day  of  shame 
Brought  no  oblivious  sleep  to  Solomon  : 
But  from  its  depths  emerged,  ere  morning  came, 
The  image  that  had  faded  from  his  mind, 
And  from  his  dreams  had  vanished  long  ago, — 
The  face  of  Sulamith,  so  sadly  sweet, 
Still  half  averted,    distant,  shadow-like, 
Wearing  that  last  inexorable  look, 
Which  yet,  with  love  and  grief  unspeakable, 
Softened  the  pain  with  which  it  wrung  his  heart  ; 
With  eyes  of  melting  pity  or  reproach, 
Or  shrinking  as  from  something  loathed  and  feared  ; 
But  more,   with  wooing,   winning  tenderness, 
Such  as  a  grieving  angel's  face  might  wear, 
When  pleading,   angel-like,  with  one  he  watched 
And  warded,  who  had  strayed  in  evil  ways. 

When  gloomily  dawned    at    length    the  tardy 

morn, 
The  crashing  thunders  of  a  tempest  shook 


200  SULAMITH. 


The  palace  walls.     Then,  to  the  awe-struck  king, 
There  came  a  voice,  above  the  tempest's  roar, 
Though  uttered  softly  as  a  breeze's  sigh, 
Or,  as  the  murmur  of  a  meadow  brook  ; 
Twice  heard  in  by-gone  years,  its  thrilling  tones 
Unchanged,  but  ah,  how  sternly  different 
Its  fateful  import  now  ! — Jehovah's  voice, 
Which  to  the  already  self-condemning  king 
His  accusation  and  his  sentence  spoke  : 

"Forasmuch,  as  this,  of  which  thou  knowest, 
Is  done  of  thee,  and  my  covenants  and 
Statutes,  which  I  commanded  thee,   thou  hast 
Not  kept,  thy  kingdom  from  thee  shall  be  rent, 
And  to  thy  servant  given.     Yet  in  thy  days 
This  shall  not  be,   for  David,   thy  father's  sake  ; 
But  from  thy  son's  hands  I  will  rend  the  kingdom. 
Howbeit,  not  all ;   but  one  tribe  I  will  give  him, 
For  David's  sake  and  for  Jerusalem's." 

The  storm's  commotion  and    the  "still  small 

voice  ' ' 

Together  into  solemn  silence  died. 
Then  Solomon  arose  and  went  his  way, 


SIN  AND    SORROW.  201 


As  one  who  knew  or  partly  knew  his  doom, 

And  hoped  no  more, — submissive,  resolute 

To  meet  the  worst  and  bear  it  patiently. 

The  glowing  wine  cup  on  his  laden  board 

He  left  unquaffed,  and  of  the  dainty  meats 

He  tasted  not ;  and  all  that-  day  he  gave 

To  much  neglected  business  of  his  realm. 

With  wisdom  worthy  of  his  better  years, 

And  energy  unmatched  in  all  the  past, 

He  laid  his  plans  and  issued  his  commands 

For  rapid  and  effectual  quieting 

Of  popular  unrest ;  for  crushing  out 

Beginnings  of  revolt  in  vassal-lands, 

And  for  the  overthrow  of  idol- worship 

From  Dan  even  unto  Beer-sheba. 

And  sternly  he  decreed  that  whosoe'er — 

Whether  a  stranger  or  an  Israelite, 

Or  of  the  very  household  of  the  king — 

Thenceforth  bowed  down  to  graven  images, 

Should  suffer  instant  banishment,  or  if 

Still  lingering  found  should  without  pity  die. 

Another  day  of  abstinence  and  toil, 
Then  to  his  trusted  councilors  the 


202  SULAMITH. 


Made  full  committal  of  the  kingdom's  rule, 

While  he  should  seek  the  rest  and  quietness 

His  shaken  health  required.     With  but  his  guards 

And  necessary  servants,  he  repaired 

With  urgent  speed  to  Lebanon's  retreats  ; 

And  in  the  summer-palace,  beautiful 

With  pillared  porches,  all  of  cedar  wrought, 

He  found  the  solitude  for  which  he  longed. 

All  royal  state  he  steadfastly  abjured  ; 

Uncrowned  was  now  his  bowed  and  hoary  head, 

And  plainly  robed  his  still  majestic  form  : 

And  they  who  watched  him  closely,   anxiously, 

Troubled  for  both  his  reason  and  his  life, 

Noted  how  seldom  and  how  sparingly 

He  ever  ate  of  even  the  simplest  food  ; 

But  most  of  all  they  grieved  to  see  him  lie 

Day  after  day  upon  his  chamber  floor, 

In  sackcloth  clothed,  with  shrouded  face  and  still, 

As  if  already  numbered  with  the  dead. 

A  change  passed  over  him.     His  eye  again 
With  something  of  its  wonted  brightness  beamed, 
And  on  his  pallid  cheek  would  glow  and  fade 
The  flush  that  once  had  lingered  fadeless  there. 


S/JV  AND    SORROW.  203 

An  impulse  from  within  and  from  above 

Now  moved  upon  him,  as  the  waking  winds 

Upon  a  ship  becalmed  on  stagnant  seas. 

His  pen  and  parchment — lately  little  used — 

For  long,  swift  hours  he  plies,  all  else  unheeded  ; 

And  lo,  a  record  of  his  inner  life 

Flows  from  his  guided  hand,   resembling  much 

Its  broken  current  and  its  waywardness  ; 

Its  turbulent  revolt  against  the  bounds 

That  would  have  kept  it  in  a  tranquil  course, 

Unruffled,  widening,  deepening  to  its  goal ; 

Its  surging  doubts,  its  black  and  sunless  pools 

Of  unbelief;  its  chafing  on  the  rocks 

Of  truth  and  right,  eternity  and  God  ; 

Its  final  turning  to  the  only  way 

That  wins  at  last  the  shoreless,  welcoming  sea, 

To  be  in  it  forever  lost  and  found — 

The  way  of  reverence  and  obedience, 

The  fear  of  God  and  His  commandments  kept, — 

The  crowning  good  of  life,  the  whole  of  man  ! 


¥ 


And  now  the  angel  who  hath  power  of  dreams, 

And  at  whose  waved  wand  illusion  seems 

More  brightly  real  than  the  common  things 

That  wakeful  sense  to  wakeful  mind  oft  brings, 

As  though  his  task  were  ended,  spread  his  wings  ; 

And  only  to  the  wistful  dreamer's  prayer 

His  flight  awhile  consented  to  forbear  ; 

And  then  the  eyelids  lightly  sealed  in  sleep 

He  gently  touched,  and  made  the  slumber  deep, 

A  tranced  spell,   in  which  the  spirit's  eye 

Could  more  than  scenes  and  shapes  and  acts  descry, — 

Could  even  look  upon  the  world  of  thought, 

The  soul's  ideals  ere  to  being  brought, 

The  very  concepts,  else  unseen,  unheard, 

Waiting  their  birth-time  through  the  living  word  ; 

And — as  from  far  above — a  golden  beam 

Flashed  and  illumed  the  mystery  of  the  dream. 


XVI. 
THE    SONG    OF    SONGS. 

[NOTHER  change  passed  over  Solomon. 
It  was  as  when,   on  cedared  Lebanon, 
The  soft   south  winds    of   early  spring-time 

blow, 

And  turn  to  gushing  streams  the  wintry  snow, 
Until  its  slopes — first  bared,  then  clothed  with  green — 
How    soon    enwreathed  with    clustering    flowers   are 

seen  ! 

And  so  to  his  long  sad  and  frozen  heart 
A  spring-like  breath  did  melting  warmth  impart  ; 
And  tender  feelings  waked  that  long  had  slept ; 
The  fount  of  tears  was  stirred,   the  monarch  wept. 
No  more  his  broken,  ineffectual  prayer 
Seemed  dead,  lost  words  upon  the  heedless  air, 
But,   from  the  now  no  longer  far-off  Heaven, 
The  whispered  answer  came,    "Thou  art  forgiven." 
So  from  him  passed  the  wintry  death  and  gloom, 

205 


206  SULAMITH. 


And  delicate  flowers  of  peace  had  sudden  bloom. 
As  in  his  soul  with  growing  brightness  beamed 
The  dawn-light,  which  at  first  so  faintly  gleamed, — 
Still  chastened,  penitent, — he  felt  and  seemed 
As  one  from  whom  has  slipped  away  at  last 
That  worn,  stained  garment,  his  polluted  past, 
And  who,  now  purged  from  all  its   filthiness, 
Puts  on  the  pure,  white  robe  of  holiness. 

When  thus  the  wasted  years  for  Solomon — 
His  years  of  guilt  and  shame — had  dream-like  gone, 
The  spring-time  of  his  life  came  back  anew, 
Its  balmy  air  and  skies  of  cloudless  blue, 
Its  blending  melodies  of  brook  and  breeze, 
And  bird-notes  trilling  from  the  leafy  trees, 
And — welcomed  most  of  the  returning  train — 
He  sees  unchanged  his  youth's  sole  love  again. 
He  hears,  with  raptured  heart  and  charmed  ear, 
The  whispers  low  which  tell  that  she  is  near, 
And  notes  with  olden  bliss  her  blushes  rise, 
While  gazing  long  into  her  deep  dark  eyes. 
Oh,  much  is  his  of  all  for  which  he  longs, 
Rays  of  her  brightness,  snatches  of  her  songs. 
As  oft  before,  still  side  by  side  they  stand 


THE    SONG    OF   SONGS.  207 


On  rocky  heights  by  mountain  breezes  fanned, 

And  see  far  cities  and  the  silvery  gleam, 

On  distant  plain,  of  interlacing  stream ; 

Or  far  below,  beneath  the  vine-roofed  bowers, 

Their  fond  communings  wing  the  happy  hours. 

But  more  immeasurably  than  memories   fraught 
With  all  the  bliss  that  earthly  love  ere  brought, 
Held  in  his  heart  of  hearts  above  them  far 
As  above  hearth-fire  shines  a  quenchless  star, 
Was  that  pure  passion  thus  o'er-mastering  grown, 
Exalted  to  his  soul's  supremest  throne — 
His  love  for  God,  his  life,  a  breath  of  Heaven — 
Much  did  he  love,  for  much  was  he  forgiven  ! 
Yet  from  the  earth-born  love  that  freshly  burns, 
And  purely  in  his  chastened  heart,  he  learns, 
With  quickened  sense  and  spirit-guided  thought, 
Full  many  a  lesson  else  perchance   untaught ; 
And  from  the  lower,   as  on  stairs  of  gold, 
Mounts  to  the  higher,   to  the  things  untold, 
Which  hearts  conceive  not,   nor  do  eyes  behold. 

Now  to  the  king,  absorbed  in  love  and  praise 
And  ceaseless  holy  joys,  swift  sped  the  days    • 


208  SULAMITH. 


Until  they  brought  a  still  and  starless  night, 
In  which  the  voice  thrice  heard  commanded  "write  !" 
And,  with  the  theme  that  filled  his  soul  supplied, 
He  wrote,  but  not  without  an  unseen  guide. 

As  one  of  subtile  sense  and  open  ears 
To  catch,  enrapt,  the  music  of  the  spheres, 
And    dowered  with    art,    through    more    than    royal 

birth, 

To  wake  the  answering  harmonies  of  earth, — 
As  such  a  crowned  king  of  melody 
Might  cull  fit  sounds  for  tuneful  rhapsody  : 
The  dulcet  notes  that  tell  the  heart's  delight, 
The  weird  and  thrilling  voices  of  the  night, 
The  choral  warblings  of  the  happy  birds, 
The  softened  lowings  of  the  distant  herds, 
The  rain  drops  pattering  and  the  plash  of  oar, 
The  brooklet's  lulling  song,   the  cataract's  roar, 
The  fitful  wind's  Eolian  minstrelsy, 
The  murmurs  deep  of  never  resting  sea, 
The  peals  of  bells  and  laughter  ringing  high, 
And  roll  of  thunder-drums  along   the  sky — 
Might  from  the  various  sounds  of  nature  choose 
Such  as  were  meet,  and  all  beside  refuse  ; 


THE    SONG    OF   SONGS.  209 


Even  so  did  Israel's  reanoitited  king, 
Heaven-taught,    from    all    his    treasured    memories 

bring 

Such  as  were  worthy,  and  from  these  he  wove 
His  mystic  song  of  longing  and  of  love. 

Sweet  oriental  idyll  of  the  heart ! 
Artless  creation  of  consummate  art ; 
Its  sources,   nature,  life,  reality, 
But  from  their  limitations  strangely  free  ; 
Wrought  of  the  ever  marred,   imperfect  real 
Into  the  unmarred,  perfected  ideal — 
The  type  in  Eden  lost,  blent  sanctity 
And  blessedness  of  wedded  unity  ; 
Picture  of  simple  joys  and  beauties   fraught 
With    meanings    that    transcend    all    earth-bound 

thought ; 

A  pastoral  poem,  and  yet  a  prophecy 
Of  love's  great  King  and  kingdom  that  should  be, 
And  day  of  His  espousals  which  imparts 
Its  everlasting  joy  to  yearning  hearts. 

Whoso  this  Song  of  Songs  would  read  aright 
Must  read  with  single  eye,  with  purged  sight, 
14 


210  SULAMITH. 

Else  on  its  fair,  chaste  lines  he  may  bnt  see 

The  shadows  of  his  own  impurity. 

Who  purely  reads,   though  but  from    nature's  plane, 

Much  of  delight  and  profit  yet  may  gain  ; 

May  feast  his  mind  and  soul  on  beauties  rare, 

Scale  mountain  heights  and  breathe  their   freshened 

air, 

Acquire  for  noble  uses  deepened  sense 
Of  heart-worth — love  and  truth  and  innocence — 
A  priceless  boon  !     But  tenfold  happier  he, 
Who  from  the  bondage  of  the  letter  free, 
And  spirit- led  ancl  lighted,   finds  the    key 
That  opes  its  shrined  and  sacred  mystery. 


Fast  from  the  flying  pen  of  Solomon 

The  stream  of  song  had  flowed.     His  task  was  done. 

As  twilight  shadows  softly  round  him  crept, 

Exhausted  with  his  pleasing  toil,  he   slept ; 

And  motionless  upon  his  couch  he  lay 

Till  came  the  wakening  light  of  new-born  day. 


THE    SONG    OF   SONGS.  211 

Over  his  face  its  kindling  radiance  streamed  ; 
He  smiled,  as  if  a  happy  dream  he  dreamed. 
Still  through  the  casement  flowed  the  waves  of  gold  — 
Ah  !  changeless  smile,  on  lips  so  pale  and  cold. 
The  river  rests,  since  it  has  reached  the  sea  ; 
Life's  turbulence  ends  in  death's  tranquillity. 
How  royally,  when  baffled  strivings  cease, 
The  lofty  brow  is  crowned  with  holy  peace  ! 


THE    END. 


NOTE. 

CAREFUL  Bible  readers,  who  may  have  deigned 
to  favor  this  volume  with  their  attention,  may  not 
unwarrantably  criticise  its  representation  of  Solo 
mon's  exclusive  devotion  to  Sulamith,  at  the  begin 
ning  of  his  reign  of  forty  years,  previous  to  his 
affinity  with  Naamah,  the  mother  of  Rehoboam 
who,  after  Solomon's  death,  ascended  the  throne  at 
the  age  of  forty-one  years. 

It  can  only  be  said  in  deprecation  of  such  antici 
pated  criticism,  First,  that  romance  writers  are  not 
to  be  held  to  strict  historical  accuracy  ;  and,  Second, 
that  the  seeming  anachronism  may  be  relieved  by 
the  consideration  that  the  length  of  the  lives  and 
the  reigns  of  David,  Solomon,  Rehoboam  and,  gen 
erally,  their  successors,  are  only  given  in  round 
numbers ;  and  further,  that  the  beginning  of  Reho 
boam' s  reign  may  have  been  fixed,  by  its  chroni 
cler,  at  the  date  of  the  convocation  of  the  tribes, 
when  he  was  formally  invested  with  the  kingdom, 
at  Shechem,  which  would  seem  to  have  taken  place 
more  than  a  year  after  the  death  of  Solomon.  See 
"Hours  with  the  Bible,"  vol.  iv.  page  2. 
212 


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